Brothers in Arms
by Master of The Blood Wolves
Summary: When Eragon, Saphira, Murtagh, Thorn, and several other Varden notables are teleported into the middle of the Napoleonic War, they must put aside their quarrel to find a way home.  But will they be able to find their way home at all?  Let's find out!
1. Chapter 1

**Brothers in Arms**

Chapter I

A Desperate Gamble

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own **_**Temeraire **_**or the **_**Inheritance Cycle**_**; If any should appear, I own any and all Original Characters.**

It was a desperate bid, infiltrating Galbatorix's citadel in Urû'baen to steal the last dragon egg.  
Indeed, if Nasuada hadn't gotten word from several very reliable sources, that said Galbatorix and Shruikan had flown north to try and reclaim Gil'ead, they probably wouldn't have dared.  
And better news, it appeared Murtagh and Thorn had been sent to garrison Belatona, leaving the citadel entirely in the hands of palace guards and courtiers who considered the news about the Varden's assault as wild rumour, rather than hard fact.

_They're about to get a _very_ rude awakening._ Thought Eragon with satisfaction to himself.  
He, along with Saphira, Joed, Arya, Angela, Solembum, Noelfavrel, a dwarf of Dûrgrimst Vrenshrggn called Gringlok and his Fanghur mount Ornthrond, were following Joed down a large tunnel that would bring them into the citadel's treasury.  
It was risky taking so large a party, but it was necessary, considering how they planned to make their escape.  
They'd all volunteered for the task, and their was no doubt in anyone's mind, that this would be a masterstroke, possibly even the killing blow in the war.

Eragon glanced, not for the first time, at Gringlok.  
The dwarf had arrived with Ornthrond, scarcely three hours after Glaedr had fallen, and had declared upon behalf of his clan that he was to fight alongside Eragon, at the behest of his clan chief.

They'd made good to their promise as well, decimating an Imperial counter-attack before it had even come into sight of the city, not six hours later.  
Eragon shook his head again at the absurd image of the dwarf, standing between Ornthrond's shoulders as he flew, and shooting down soldiers as they fled with his great Feldûnost horn bow.

He was snapped out of his reverie by a nudge from Saphira.  
Joed had come to a large archway in the huge tunnel, and was beckoning impatiently.  
This tunnel wasn't the same one Hefring had used twenty years before.

It was a different one, that Joed had only just discovered a few days previously in his scrolls and books.  
A motion from Eragon, and everyone held their weapons in a readier grip.  
They were about to enter the citadel proper.

* * *

They ascended the stairs within the arch in good time, Saphira and Ornthrond not even taking up all that much room in the huge passage.  
_Imagine what this place would've been like while the riders were at the height of their reign._ Commented Saphira in a tone that surprised Eragon.  
It was an awed tone.  
_And we shall see it returned to how it was should we succeed. _Vowed Eragon with conviction.

They walked in silence a while longer, still nowhere near anywhere where guards might be patrolling, and it was sometime past midnight, so what guards there were, were probably dozing at their posts; which was a good thing, considering Saphira's and Ornthrond's claws clicked against the floor with every step they took.  
Minutes crawled by excruciatingly slowly, each moment, they were all expecting a battalion of palace guards to surround them, backed up by Galbatorix's pet magicians, as well as the black king and his dragon.

But their fears were in vain, they came to the treasury undetected, and a muttered _'Deyja,' _by Arya and Eragon slew the guards instantly.  
After that, it was a simple matter for Saphira and Ornthrond to pry open the treasury doors.

Contraire to what they'd been expecting, the treasury was practically empty:  
In the exact centre, standing on a small plinth was the last dragon egg, a foot in diameter, and the rich green of moss growing on the banks of a forest stream.  
Around the edges of the treasury were ranged irregularly sized gems of varying iridescent colours.  
The Eldunarya of dragons, stolen during the Fall.  
Hands tightened on weapons, and mental barriers went up, as the group cautiously entered the treasury.

When they were all halfway between the egg and the doorway, a hidden portcullis thundered into the floor, trapping them.  
That had been expected, it was what had fouled the original attempt at theft nearly twenty years ago, and Hefring had only been strong enough to transport Saphira's egg clear before he'd been captured and killed.  
Still, the portcullis set off a thunderous _boom_ that echoed through the deserted halls and corridors.

They quickened their pace, and reached the plinth as in the distance shouts of confusion could be heard.  
Now they were on a time-clock.  
Eragon quickly snatched the egg, and leapt onto Saphira's back-

* * *

-Just in time to avoid being shot in the back with a crossbow bolt.

At Ornthrond's surprised squeal of pain, Eragon jerked around, avoiding a second crossbow bolt by a fluke.  
Turning back again the other way upon seeing the bolt lodged in Ornthrond's shoulder,-and subsequently dodging a pair of arrows meant for him,- Eragon was just in time to catch a fifth arrow meant for him, _and_ see Murtagh, Thorn, and five soldiers clad in burnished steel plate armour, with cloaks of rich red.

'Enough!' Ordered Murtagh sharply, and the five red-cloaked soldiers finished reloading and stood ready, still as statues.  
A crooked grin broke out on Murtagh's face.  
'So, you took the king's bait Eragon, commented Murtagh calmly, as he and Thorn advanced into the room, while Gringlok yanked the crossbow bolt from the now pissed-off Ornthrond's shoulder.

In the background, the red-cloaked soldiers fanned out.

'I didn't expect you to bring company though.' Continued Murtagh, at Eragon's silence.  
'But I'm sure that Thorn, my Vermillion Guard and I can put paid to your followers, and capture you without _too_ much trouble.' Assured Murtagh, as Gringlok stepped forwards a pace with the crossbow bolt in one hand, a two bladed dwarven axe in the other.

He was quickly joined by Angela, and Arya, both women with their respective weapons at the ready.  
'Arh ya blackguard, now yea 'll pay for the slaying of Hrothgar, at the blade of my axe!' Promised Gringlok savagely.

_Eragon, go, we'll keep Murtagh busy, just get out of here._ Ordered Arya sternly.  
Eragon drew Brisingr and jumped down from Saphira's saddle.  
'No, we end this now.' Said Eragon, passing the egg to Joed, who along with Noelfavrel and Solembum quickly moved and mounted Ornthrond, who was hissing threateningly at Thorn.

Nobody moved, as in the distance the sounds of running feet echoed.

Without warning, the Eldunarya around the room began to glow.  
A low humming began to build, and everyone glanced around uneasily, unsure of what was happening.

'Oh hellfire, get out of here!' Shouted Murtagh urgently, and instantly, his Vermillion guard threw themselves clear of the treasury as a blinding flash, and a colossal sonic boom went off in the treasury.  
When the dust cleared, eyes readjusted to the light, and heads stopped ringing from the sonic fallout, and one of the Vermillion Guards looked back to see what had come of his master, he saw that the intruders, Murtagh and the last dragon egg in Alagaësia…

…Had vanished into thin air.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II

Brave New World

**Disclaimer: See previous chapter**

It was the middle of the afternoon, on the island of Madeira, the sort of peaceful afternoon where one would find a nice shady spot and enjoy a quiet snooze, unless otherwise engaged.  
In the sky, flew a black dragon, with deep blue markings, edged in grey along the trailing edges of it's wings.

Upon this dragon's back sat,-rather awkwardly,- a man in his late twenties, wearing an overcoat.  
The dragon was excitedly pointing out things that caught his interest below to his rider: rocks, trees, watercourses, roads, houses, animals,- to which his rider was taking his time to appreciate from the aerial view.

And then a gigantic thunderclap tore the peaceful scene below apart.  
No damage was done,-although there'd be a great deal of grumbling later,- but the dragon stopped in alarm, and began hovering over a deserted stretch of road, near the mouth of a deep valley.

At least, it had been deserted before the thunderclap.  
Now, two iridescent dragons, and a third, more drab mottled one were sprawled about, along with a group of people.

'Land Temeraire, we'd best see if those dragons and their crews aren't injured after that.' Said the man in a concerned tone.  
The man could feel the young dragon quiver slightly with excitement and anxiety.  
Privately, he felt the same about meeting other aviators for the first time.  
And where exactly had they come from? They hadn't been there a moment ago.

* * *

Meanwhile, on the ground, Eragon staggered to his feet, and looked around warily.  
Whatever the Eldunarya had done, they were no longer in Galbatorix's castle.  
A quick glance around confirmed that the rest of his group had also been sent with him.  
Unfortunately, so had Murtagh, who was also staggering to his feet.

Eragon also cast a glance at Thorn.  
To Eragon's surprise, the scarlet dragon was a third smaller than he had been mere moments before.

Meanwhile, Murtagh had fallen to his knees and vomited.

Eragon frowned, and quickly turned back to Saphira, who had just staggered to her feet, and was shaking her head as if to clear it.  
_Are you alright?_ Asked Eragon in concern.  
_I am fine, little one, what about-_ Saphira broke off, and jumped behind Eragon settling back into a crouch, and looking almost directly upwards, baring her fangs and snarling menacingly, wings half raised, and dark smoke curling from her nostrils, while a threatening growl issued from her throat.

Eragon also glanced up, and instantly drew Brisingr, and settled into a fighting stance, prepared for what was going to be the hardest fight of his life, and probably his last.  
From on high, descended Shruikan, and the Black King Galbatorix himself.

* * *

As they got closer to the ground, Captain William Laurence saw two of the three dragon's crews stagger to their feet, and one of them immediately fell to his knees again, and double over.

Then one of the dragons, a large brilliant sapphire one, with a line of spines down it's back get to it's feet, shake it's head, then glance up at them, before jumping behind the man who was still on his feet, and settle into a threatening pose, and growl menacingly.

Temeraire hesitated uncertainly.  
'Laurence, are you sure we should land? She doesn't look well pleased to see us.' He said.  
'Land, but keep some distance between us and them, just in case.' Replied Laurence, feeling himself slightly uneasy.  
He surreptitiously loosened his cutlass in it's sheath, and checked that his pistol would come free easily.

* * *

Shruikan landed in a rush of wind and folding winds, and waited patiently as his dark master clambered down.

Eragon hadn't known what to expect of Galbatorix, but somehow, a man who appeared to be in his late twenties, with sun-bleached hair, broad shoulders, and wearing a concerned expression and an overcoat hadn't even been on the list.  
A flicker of movement in his periphery vision caused Eragon to glance sideways, to see Murtagh stand shakily.  
He too, was looking at Galbatorix, but a look of utter bewilderment was on his face.

A mental ray of incredible force overwhelmed Eragon's defences.  
_Eragon, do not do anything rash, whoever this man is, he is definitely not Galbatorix._ Said Murtagh in the ancient language.  
Eragon kept his face set, but lowered Brisingr to his side, and Saphira relaxed fractionally, although Eragon could feel her surprise and confusion.  
Now that he actually looked, Eragon noted that along the bottom edge of the black dragon's wings were a series of deep blue markings, ringed in grey.  
The rider was closer now, and Eragon marked the basket hilted cutlass at his waist, as well as what looked like a small cudgel of some sort.

Eragon stepped forward out of Saphira's shadow. 'That's close enough there, who are you?' He called.

The man stopped a short distance away.  
If need be, Eragon felt confident he could cross the twenty foot space between them in an instant.

'My name is William Laurence, and who might you be, sir?' Asked Laurence politely, with a strange expression.  
Eragon felt his own face develop a frown at the strange accent.  
'Eragon Bromsson.' Answered Eragon at length.  
Now the black dragon stepped forward.

Eragon put him at a couple of years older than Saphira on size.  
Saphira growled warningly.  
The black dragon stopped abruptly.

Out of nowhere, Ornthrond leapt in front of the black dragon and Laurence, and bared his fangs, crouched threateningly.  
On his back, with his great horn bow in hand was Gringlok.

When Eragon glanced around, he saw Noelfavrel and Joed helping Arya and Angela to their feet, while Solembum sat resolutely beside Angela looking as haughty as a cat that had just fallen into a still pond, and jumped back out, only less bedraggled.

''At be far enough there, name yerself, either friend or foe, stranger.' Ordered Gringlok suspiciously.  
'Gringlok, now isn't the time, if they meant us harm, don't you think they'd have attacked us before now?' Asked Eragon rhetorically.

It worked, Gringlok lowered his bow, and shifted his black iron helm slightly on his head.  
'Aye, you have a point there Shadeslayer, I'll give you that.'

Without another word of warning, Ornthrond went and nosed the still dazed Thorn, as Gringlok clambered down from his back,-careful to use the Fanghur's left foreleg instead of his injured right one,- and draw his axe.  
'Wait, Eragon, whatever just happened, it broke the king's hold on me, I am freed from his power.' Said Murtagh in the ancient language.  
_Gringlok, Murtagh isn't a threat right now, his oaths of servitude are broken somehow, but keep him from slipping away, he might know something of what happened._ Instructed Eragon when the dwarf let Eragon past his thick mental defences.  
Gringlok nodded once, his brown-red beard shining in the sun, and quickly went and stood by Murtagh, while Ornthrond stood guard beside Thorn.

'What was all that?' Asked the black dragon in confusion.  
Eragon's eyes widened in surprise, and behind him, Saphira hissed her own surprise, and her stance softened as she padded from behind Eragon to stand beside him.  
'I'd like to know myself.' Replied Laurence to the dragon, not in the least fazed by the dragon's ability to speak, but puzzled by the sapphire dragon's reaction.  
Eragon shook his head.  
'I'm sorry about that, Gringlok mistook you for someone else.' Apologised Eragon, with a slight amount of embarrassment.  
'Are you all alright? We heard the explosion, and when we looked down here, we saw you all thrown about.' Said Laurence with concern.

'We're fine, except for not knowing where we are; or even _when _we are.' Answered Angela brightly, having straightened her flanged armour, and retrieved her Huthvîr.  
'And who might you be, dear lady?' Asked Laurence, and noting with some confusion Angela's armour.

In the background, Eragon was aware of Saphira and Laurence's black dragon sizing each other up.

Angela flipped her curly hair over her shoulder before she answered. 'Oh, you know, a fortune-teller, a herbalist, a witch, a warrior, someone who likes to be where interesting things are happening.' She said off handed.  
'You're a witch?' Asked Laurence in confused shock.  
'Oh yes, and if you want my name you'll have to ask me for it, you asked who I was, and I told you, but you never asked me what my name was.' Continued Angela brightly.

Eragon got the suspicion that Angela had had some inkling of how this stranger would react to the knowledge.

'Well- that is…' Laurence broke off his stammering and regained his composure.  
'What is your name then?' Asked Laurence at last, abashed.  
'Angela.' Replied Angela simply. 'And yes, I _am _a witch, but I don't curse people or consort with demons, or anything like that.' Assured Angela brightly.

Eragon was nonplussed and confused by Angela, as usual, but he saw Laurence blush, and drew the conclusion Angela had been reading his mind.

'Angela, stop toying with him.' Said Arya amused.  
Laurence glanced at Arya, and was immediately transfixed.  
It was an odd transfixation, because he was simultaneously captivated by Arya's extraordinary beauty, and horrified at her usual black leather pants and shirt.  
Arya waited a full five seconds, for Laurence to get over it, but in the end, he would've been staring all day.  
'Where are we exactly, human?' Asked Arya, irritated as she took a glance at the man's thoughts, and subtly prodding his mind off of her charms and chosen garb.  
'What? Oh, sorry, you mean you don't know where you are?' Asked Laurence, still tongue tied despite Arya's unlooked for assistance.

'Does it sound like we know human?' Asked Gringlok with exaggerated patience.  
Now Laurence took a moment to look at Gringlok.

Suddenly, all the eccentric, and non-human things about Gringlok and Arya that the others took for granted, as well as Angela's eccentricity became too much for poor Laurence, and his mind did the one thing it could to cope:  
Without any other stimuli, aside from Laurence realising that Gringlok was a being out of old folktales, he fainted.

* * *

When the newcomer,-Laurence she corrected herself from Eragon's mind,- began talking with Eragon, Saphira and the black dragon approached each other, the black dragon more warily than Saphira, despite the fact he was slightly larger than her.

Saphira stopped, and waited for the black dragon to take her scent, but instead, the black dragon simply flicked his tongue in and out a couple of times at her.  
For her part, brought her head in closer and sniffed along the edge of the black dragon's wing, while the black dragon shuffled it's wings uncomfortably.  
She drew her head away with a satisfied snort.  
_Well met, I am Saphira._ Said Saphira respectfully.  
The black dragon cocked it's,-his Saphira saw from the dragon's mind,- head in bewilderment.  
'My name is Temeraire, may I ask yours?' Asked Temeraire politely.  
_I just told you, were you not listening?_ Asked Saphira, rolling her eyes in a very visible way.

Temeraire jerked his head back surprised.  
'That voice I just heard in my head was _you?_' Asked Temeraire in surprise.  
Saphira chuckled deep in her throat, where it sounded like a pair of stones rubbing together.  
_It couldn't have been anyone else, Ornthrond rarely ever says something unless it is in dwarvish, Thorn is still unconscious, and_ I'm _the only one currently talking with you.  
_Temeraire shuffled his wings uncomfortably again.  
'I did not mean to cause offence, I have never met another dragon before.' Admitted Temeraire.  
_You did not cause any offence to me, but surely you would speak with your Rider thus? Why would it surprise you that others of your kind cannot also?_ Asked Saphira.

Temeraire cocked his head in confusion, and opened his mouth to reply.  
That was all the answer Saphira needed, and she two cocked her head in surprise.  
_You do not mean to tell me you cannot speak with your mind, do you?_ She asked, then added, _think your answers and I will hear them.  
__No, I didn't know that we could speak with our minds._ Said Temeraire with surprise.

Saphira took a curious peek at Temeraire's memories, and made a discovery that made her hiss once more in surprise.  
_How is it, that you are barely three weeks old, and already larger than I?_ Asked Saphira, shocked.  
_I think it is because I am a different breed to you, Laurence is going to ask an old friend of his what breed I am tomorrow, but from what Laurence has told me, different breeds of dragons grow differently, and some are larger than some, and smaller than others._ Answered Temeraire, only leaving Saphira all the more bewildered.

_What trickery did the black king use this time?_ Wondered Saphira privately.

A loud thump caught both dragon's attentions, and they turned around to see Laurence fainted.

* * *

Temeraire immediately stepped forward, and gathered Laurence to him in concern.

'Don't worry, I'll set him right in a moment.' Promised Eragon, and breached the barrier in his mind, and delved into the magic. 'Vakna.' Said Eragon, and his strength dropped imperceptibly, but immediately, Laurence stirred to wakefulness, and climbed back to his feet.

'A dwarf, and an elf…' muttered Laurence faintly to himself, leaning against Temeraire's foreleg and sagging with disbelief.

Eragon approached, but stopped when Temeraire lowered his head and growled.  
'Temeraire, he means me no ill, pray let Mr Bromsson pass.' Asked Laurence, and Temeraire immediately raised his head.  
'I do not mean to appear rude or anything, Will, but my companions and I must know: where are we?' Asked Eragon firmly.  
'The island of Madeira near Portugal.' Answered Laurence with a bit more strength to his voice, but he noted, now that he looked, that Eragon also had the same slanted features the woman had, although his jaw was thicker, and his shoulders broader.  
'Pray tell, are you an elf as well?' Asked Laurence.  
Eragon smiled at Laurence's confusion.  
'No, I am human, I appear elven due to changes wrought upon my body during the elves' Agaeti Blödhren, their Blood-oath Celebration, so now I'm not fully human, but I'm not quite an elf, I'm something in between.' Said Eragon unconcerned.

'You wouldn't be able to show me Madeira on a map would you? My companions and I must return to Alagaësia with all speed.' Asked Eragon hopefully.  
Laurence frowned. 'What the devil are you talking about? Alagaësia? I have never heard of such a place.' Replied Laurence.  
Eragon himself frowned. 'Never even heard of it? Have you heard of a port city called Tierm, then? Or Aroughs or Dauth?' Tried Eragon.  
Laurence shook his head. 'No, I have never heard of any of those places.' He said.  
'Well, would you be able to show us a map anyway? We might be able to find where we are simply by comparing it with one of our own.' Asked Eragon.

Laurence wasn't given long to consider, because Temeraire had just spied a flock of sheep grazing a short distance away.  
As the black dragon announced he was hungry once more to his rider, Eragon took the opportunity to quietly slip back to where everyone else was standing.

* * *

'Did you find out where we are?' Asked Noelfavrel anxiously.  
Eragon nodded grimly. 'Joed, you wouldn't have heard of an island called Madeira by any chance? Or a land called Portugal?' Asked Eragon hopefully.  
Joed shook his head. 'No Eragon, I'm afraid not, both places I have never heard of, even in my books, does that fellow know of Alagaësia, or any of the port cities?' Asked Joed.  
Now it was Eragon's turn to shake his head. 'No, and he sounded like he thought I was mad when I asked, as if he thought the places didn't exist,' Replied Eragon.

Gringlok's rough cough interrupted the group discussion.  
'Yea might want to hear what Murtagh has to say.' Said Gringlok in his gruff tone, and gestured for Murtagh to step forward.

There was a long moment of silence as Murtagh met the cold gazes of the assembled.  
'I think I know where we are, but you won't believe me, even though the proof of it is in the fact the enchantments that Galbatorix placed upon Thorn are gone, and my oaths to him are broken.' Said Murtagh at last, quietly.  
'Where are we then?' Challenged Arya.  
Murtagh took a breath and sighed.  
'We are in another world, and Galbatorix is the only other one who knows how to enter it and leave again.' He said.

**Not my best work ever, but it will have to serve.**

**Hopefully it'll get better as I go.**

**A special mention to Hideout Writer for being the first reviewer of this story, and a special mention to Dragonman10 for being the first to put this on story alert.**

**Review after reading.**

**No One-liners.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III

Answers and Introductions

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

Murtagh's revelation was met with stunned silence.

Then, Noelfavrel summed up what everyone was thinking in one word.  
'What?' Asked the boy incredulously.

'We are in another world,' repeated Murtagh grimly.  
'Care to elaborate a little there, Murtagh?' Asked Angela dryly.

Murtagh sighed.  
'A while ago, Galbatorix discovered that some of the Eldunarya possessed hereditary memories that did not correlate with any place in Alagaësia, memories of past lives in another world; Using some means that I can't adequately explain, he induced them to use their powers to transport them to this other-world, after some time mind-scrying, he learnt as much as possible about this world as possible, then returned to Alagaësia, for reasons best left known to him.' Said Murtagh, pausing in his narrative to draw breath. 'A year later, he returned, and sought out a man by the name of…Napoleon Bonaparte I think, the emperor of a land called France, and offered him alliance, and power if he chose to join him.'

'Why would Galbatorix offer alliance to an emperor in a different world?' Asked Eragon in confusion.  
Murtagh shrugged. 'He's mad, doubtless it makes sense to him, but I do not pretend to know.' He said. 'Since then,' continued Murtagh, 'Galbatorix has brought this Napoleon twice to Urû'baen, and I believe he means to follow up on this alliance.' Said Murtagh blithely.

'Why are you telling us this?' Asked Arya.  
Murtagh met her gaze unflinchingly. 'Because, I wish Galbatorix dead as much as any of you, more-so even, for what he did to Thorn and me.' Answered Murtagh.

'We aren't going to trust you at face value, Murtagh, willingly or not you betrayed the Varden and the dwarves, not mention killing King Hrothgar, for which Eragon has sworn to avenge.' Said Gringlok pointedly.

Murtagh shrugged philosophically.  
'He never swore to be avenged on me at a specific time, so let us set that aside until we can figure out how to return to Alagaësia where such quarrels matter.' Suggested Angela decisively.

'A good suggestion.' Agreed Arya, nodding.  
Gringlok shook his head. 'I must be going soft, but aye, I suppose it is the best course of action.' Agreed the dwarf reluctantly.

_What of these two,-_ Saphira motioned with her head to Laurence and Temeraire, who were watching from a respectful distance,- _should we trust them?_ Asked Saphira.  
'I don't think we have any choice in the matter, and they seem honest enough.' Said Joed thoughtfully.  
_Well, _I _am travelling with them, whether the rest of you will or not._ announced Solembum.  
That settled the matter, all assembled knew not to doubt the knowledge of werecats.

* * *

Laurence breathed a mental sigh of relief, as Temeraire decided against snatching one of the sheep to eat at present.

Instead, he watched with interest as the group of strangers had what as far as Laurence could tell was something of a conference, that became all the more heated after the dark haired man, who Laurence was yet to here speak, told them something that rendered them momentarily speechless, and caused the youngest member of the group, a boy Laurence wouldn't have put much older than fourteen, to exclaim 'What?' incredulously, which was followed by a brief explanation by the dark haired man, and a even shorter debate, which seemed to be settled when a large black cat came and sat by the self-proclaimed witch, Angela.

At last, the group,-minus the drab coloured dragon, and the ruby dragon who was still out cold,- came over.

'It appears that we are stranded here for the time being, and, as Joed has just said, the two of you seem trustworthy enough, so we think it best if we follow you for the time being.' Said Eragon at length.  
'Pray tell, what was all that about a moment ago?' Asked Temeraire.

'I don't think I have introduced Temeraire yet.' Said Laurence apologetically.  
'Not to worry,' said Eragon, then motioned to Saphira, 'this is Saphira.'

Saphira brought her head in close to Laurence and examined him critically with one huge, sapphire eye.  
To Laurence's credit, he met Saphira's gaze steadily for a few moments before he looked away.  
_He'll do._ Said Saphira to the assembled, before drawing her head back.

'Might I ask what all this is about?' Asked Laurence tentatively.  
It took the best part of twenty minutes for Eragon to give Laurence a very brief overview of Alagaësia, it's peoples, and the current state of affairs there, followed by a recount of their desperate attempt to steal the final dragon egg.  
'And, although it doesn't prove any of my story true, I think this will validate some of what I just said.' Said Eragon at last, holding his right hand palm upwards out in front of him.

Laurence watched, so far Eragon had fed him an intricate and outlandish story of magic, betrayal, fantastical creatures, and other preposterous balderdash.  
He couldn't wait to see what was coming.  
'Brisingr.' Said Eragon, and a tongue of blue flame erupted into life in the palm of his hand.  
Laurence stared.  
And stared.  
And stared.  
Then he tried to speak but mouthed stupidly like a fish out of water.

'That is very clever.' Said Temeraire appreciatively.  
It was a complete understatement, compared to the many, many things Laurence wanted to say on the subject, but he couldn't find the words.  
At last, Eragon released the spell, and Laurence saw the silvery mark on Eragon's hand shimmer and glow with dissipating energy.

'Magic…' Breathed Laurence at last.  
'Now,' said Eragon, 'Murtagh has told us something of a man called Napoleon Bonaparte, who is considering alliance with Galbatorix, you wouldn't be able to tell us anything more of the state of things here would you?' Asked Eragon.

Laurence sighed in his turn.  
It took Laurence roughly half the time to recount to Eragon and his companions the state of the war against Napoleon.  
At last, when Laurence was finished, Eragon scratched his chin.

'So…you are waiting on a dispatch from, Gibraltar…' Eragon paused, and Laurence nodded, confirming he'd gotten the name right, 'and in the meantime you are free of duty?' Asked Eragon.  
'That is correct.  
Eragon turned to the rest of the group behind him.

'If this Napoleon is planning on aiding Galbatorix, we should do everything in our power to thwart him.' Said Joed firmly, and this was answered by differing forms of agreement.

Eragon turned back to Laurence.  
'You wouldn't be able to take us to see this Admiral Croft of yours would you?' Asked Eragon.

* * *

If Temeraire's arrival aboard the _Reliant_ nigh on a week before had sparked an interest, Saphira's insistence on coming along to meet Admiral Croft would've caused a near scandal, if the populace hadn't already scattered upon seeing Saphira padding along the docks behind Laurence.

Accompanying Saphira and Eragon were Joed, Arya and Gringlok.  
Arya and Gringlok as they leant credibility to Eragon's story, and Joed because he was good at negotiating.

Laurence was still remembering how Eragon had healed the drab mottled dragon, Ornthrond of the crossbow wound in his shoulder with just a short, unintelligible sentence.  
And then how the dark haired man,-Murtagh Laurence remembered,-had awoken his dragon with but a single word.

They'd left Temeraire, Thorn, Ornthrond, and the rest of Eragon's company, back at Laurence's temporary residence, while they went to speak with Admiral Croft.

Murtagh walked next to Saphira, whilst Eragon, Arya and Gringlok rode upon her saddle.  
He didn't mind, after everything he'd done, he knew he deserved this, and much worse.

Laurence for his part was starting to question the wisdom of not arguing with Eragon when he insisted Saphira should accompany them.  
Both due to the panic it was causing, and the example it set to Temeraire.

Such thoughts were swept from Laurence's mind as they reached the _Commendable._

'Laurence, what the hell is going on here?' Demanded Admiral Croft with some heat when he beheld Saphira.  
'My apologies sir, but I met someone who wishes to speak with you on a matter, and the inclusion of the dragon in this person's retinue was not a point to be argued upon.' Said Laurence lamely, as Gringlok, Eragon, Joed and Arya clambered down from Saphira's saddle, and Murtagh stepped into Croft's view.

'Good grief woman, they'll have you up for indecent exposure, going around like that.' Said Croft upon seeing Arya, her elven beauty not effecting him as strongly as Arya's chosen garb.  
Arya ignored him.

'Well, which of you is the leader of this group?' Asked Croft at last, tapping his iron left hand with his good right one in an unconscious nervous gesture.  
_Eragon._ Prompted Arya.  
'That would be me, sir.' Said Eragon confidently stepping forward.  
'Well, who are you and what is the meaning of bringing a bloody dragon into the middle of town?' Asked Croft angrily.

Saphira growled low in her throat at being seen as a mere animal, and Eragon had to restrain his own temper.

'We came to enquire as to whether your government would wish the service of two dragon riders.' Stated Eragon calmly.  
Croft waved his hand dismissively. 'How the bloody hell would I know? I'm a Navy man, not an aviator.' Said Croft, then hesitated, possibly realising how arrogant the remark had sounded. 'The dispatch rider comes tomorrow or the day after, and I expect Laurence's orders to arrive then, if you wait until then, you should be able to get an answer, until then I shall inform the governor to send some cattle to wherever you are staying.' Said Croft quickly.

Eragon nodded in acquiescence.

'Send the extra three to where Laurence is staying, if you would.' Said Eragon, 'I'm sorry to have bothered you.' He added, and at a nod from him, Arya, Joed, Gringlok and Murtagh scrambled to grab hold of Saphira's saddle, while Eragon also climbed aboard.  
'Coming?' Asked Eragon of Laurence, but Laurence waved him off.  
'I'll meet you later on.' He said.  
Eragon nodded, then Saphira launched herself into the air and headed inland, back towards the cottage that was currently occupying.

* * *

Noelfavrel sighed and rubbed his brow as he sat down beneath a tree, and watched as Thorn paced back and forth, and rolled his shoulders, stretching his wings, and much to Noelfavrel's and Angela's amusement, humming happily to himself.

Once again, Noelfavrel snuck a glance at the moss-green egg that they'd stolen from Galbatorix's treasury, both to reassure himself it was still there, and that he hadn't been dreaming.  
_What was I thinking?_ Thought Noelfavrel, then he remembered.  
_Oh yeah, I was thinking "maybe the egg will hatch for me and I'll become a dragon rider like Eragon."_ Noelfavrel snorted at his own naïvety.  
'Yeah right.' He muttered.

A protracted, strangled, gurgling wheeze caused Noelfavrel look up, and behold Thorn spluttering and coughing in an almost comical way.  
'What just happened?' Asked Noelfavrel in concern, of Angela, who was doubled over with mirth.  
_That idiot just tried to breath fire, and went into this coughing fit._ Said Solembum in amusement.  
Noelfavrel grinned and chuckled to himself quietly.

Off a little ways, Ornthrond was snickering quietly, and Noelfavrel heard several distinct words in dwarvish.  
Noelfavrel blinked, in surprise, then remembered that the Fanghur had spoken that maybe twice with Gringlok while with the Varden before they'd gone to try and steal the egg.

'What are you doing over here by yourself?' Asked Temeraire curiously, as he peered down at Noelfavrel.  
Noelfavrel shook his head in wonder.

A Fanghur being able to speak he could deal with, but given his,-very limited,- experience with Saphira, being silent for the most part, speaking through Eragon when she wanted to say something, and communicating her feelings through unsubtle gestures, he found Temeraire's open inquisitiveness, and ability to speak far more disconcerting.

Then he shrugged.  
'It's a nice day, thought I might just sit down and enjoy it.' He answered evasively.  
'But what are you doing, with that thing sitting in your lap?' Pressed Temeraire.

Noelfavrel muttered a choice curse he'd picked up on the _Dragon Wing_ to himself.  
If his mother had've heard it, there wouldn't have been any sitting down for a week.  
'I'm looking after it, and as to it's nature, that isn't up for discussion.' Said Noelfavrel bravely.

Temeraire drew back his head sadly.  
He'd merely been curious as to what the boy had been doing, whilst the curly haired woman, and the drab coloured dragon laughed at the red dragon who was now coiled up looking away from them and ignoring them.

Temeraire sat for a while, and watched as the curly haired woman paced back and forth, the drab coloured dragon sat at grooming himself, the red dragon sat at ignoring everyone, and the boy under the tree simply sat there.  
_What a dull and uninteresting lot they are._ Thought Temeraire despairingly.  
_You'd be _very_ surprised if you knew them._ Said a voice in the back of Temeraire's mind.

Glancing down, he saw a black cat curled up on his foreleg.  
_And who are you?_ Asked Temeraire, after he remembered to think his answers while speaking like this.  
Silence.  
Temeraire sighed, and his head drooped to the ground.

A series of heavy concussions of the air caused Temeraire to raise his head again, and he saw the blue dragon, -Saphira, he remembered,- fly back into the field, and land.  
When she had landed, she lowered herself to the ground, and allowed the four who'd gone with Laurence down to the docks to climb off of her back.  
Temeraire looked around in alarm as he saw that Laurence wasn't with them.  
'Don't worry, Laurence said he'd catch up, he'll be back later.' Assured Eragon.  
Temeraire sighed, as Saphira settled herself down and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Left nothing much more to attend to until Laurence returned, Eragon, Arya, Joed, Angela and Noelfavrel gathered beside Saphira.

'This sounds like a very risky plan Eragon.' Said Arya seriously.  
'We have to try Arya, if I fail, then we know not to try again, and if we succeed, we can contact Nasuada and inform her that we haven't been captured, and what Galbatorix plans to do.' Replied Eragon quietly.

Angela considered a moment. 'I think we should let Nasuada know where we are, and besides, we need to let her know we've got the egg.' She said.  
Arya sighed. 'Fine, but I still think this is a bad idea.' She said, and passed Eragon a water-skin and a broad, shallow bowl.

Eragon quickly filled the bowl, and tapped into the magic.  
'Draumr kópa.' Said Eragon and added the variation for communication, and the water went black.  
Eragon frowned as he felt the spell taking double the amount of strength,-negligible though it was,- than it usually would.

It took roughly double the time for the water to clear, but when it did, it showed Nasuada, King Orrin, Jörmundur, Trianna and Blödhgarm sitting in Nasuada's command tent discussing something.  
'My lady.' Said Eragon clearly.  
Instantly, all four whipped around and stared at the mirror mounted on it's bronze tripod.  
'Eragon, good to hear from you, I take it your mission was successful?' Asked Nasuada calmly, not in sounding in the slightest worried.  
'Yes my lady, we have the egg, but there has been an unforeseen complication, and we may not be able to return for some time.' Said Eragon.

'Unforeseen complication? Don't tell me you've been-'  
'No, lady Nasuada, we haven't been captured, however, when we reached Galbatorix's treasury, and went to steal the egg, we were ambushed by Murtagh and Thorn, it appears Galbatorix meant to bait us into trying to capture the egg, but before the fighting could start, the Elunarya also in the treasury somehow sent us to another world, where we are now trapped until we can find a way home.' Explained Arya quickly.

'This is grim news, and will be cause for much discussion, but what happened to Murtagh and Thorn?' Asked Orrin.  
'They were sent to this other-world along with us, but the process appears to have broken Galbatorix's hold over them; Murtagh has also revealed that Galbatorix is the only one who knows how to travel between Alagaësia and this world, and that he seeks to form an alliance with the emperor of a land called France for reasons unknown.' Answered Eragon.

'But you are in control of the egg?' Prompted Blödhgarm.  
'Yes, we have control of the egg, and it hasn't chosen to hatch for Noelfavrel, so I suppose we'll have to keep an eye on it; What should we do now?' Asked Eragon.

A quiet murmur of urgent conversation broke out, then stopped gradually died away.  
'Tell us of this world you are stuck in.' Said Orrin eagerly.

Eragon spent the next twenty minutes relaying the information Laurence had provided them with, along with several observations he'd made on the way to meet Admiral Croft.  
There was silence in Nasuada's tent for a long while.

'Eragon, I think it may be an idea if you stayed with this Laurence person for now, and aid his country in combating these Franks, Galbatorix must mean to try and bring them back with Alagaësia with him to bolster his army in his fight against us, by no means can you let that happen; aside from that, let us know of any advances in their military you observe, or practises that may give us an advantage in our fight, and of course, guard that egg.' Ordered Nasuada.

'Yes my lady, scrying you like this is costing me twice as much as usual, so I think it might be wise if I only contact you once a week, or if it is urgent.' Said Eragon.  
Nasuada nodded in acquiescence.  
'Of course, may your sword stay sharp, Eragon.'  
'Of course my lady, and could you tell Roran from me not to worry?' Asked Eragon.  
'It wouldn't be a wise idea to keep this from him, so I will.' Said Nasuada.  
Eragon nodded his thanks, and released the spell.

* * *

Laurence returned nearly an hour later, shortly after the cows had been sent up, and he was carrying a large bulky package.  
Saphira stirred as Laurence walked by, and went to Temeraire.  
The package contained a gold chain, threaded with pearls, a gift to which Temeraire was overwhelmed to receive.

Eragon watched on without comment, he'd read in many of Oromis's scrolls that whilst most bonded dragons took Saphira's stance on possessions, most wild dragons, along with some bonded dragons had been possessed of an immense fascination for gems and precious metals.  
Saphira merely snorted.  
Ornthrond eyed the chain enviously as Temeraire admired it, but then went back to the cow he'd been steadily working his way through.  
Thorn was still haughtily keeping his distance from Ornthrond, and didn't seem inclined to go near Saphira, despite Murtagh's assurances that she wouldn't harm him if he didn't try and harm her.  
Nor would he go anywhere near Temeraire, eyeing the young dragon suspiciously.

The group of Alagaësians sat near Saphira, except for Murtagh, who sat with Thorn, gazing at the stars.

At last, Eragon conceded defeat, and went over to where Laurence was reading to Temeraire, a book on mineralogy and gemstones.  
When Laurence acknowledged Eragon, and set aside the book Eragon spoke.

'Will, I managed to contact my liege lady in Alagaësia this afternoon whilst you were doing whatever you were doing, and she has given her approval to our aiding you and your country against this Napoleon, however, we know little of this world, and we could use your help; Also, as it seems we shall be stuck here a while, I feel that proper introductions are in order.' Said Eragon, feeling slightly self conscious.  
'That is good news, that you have decided to aid us.' Said Laurence, then stood.

'Well, if you want to do this properly: William Laurence, at your service.' Said Laurence, offering his hand.  
'Eragon Bromsson, at yours.' Replied Eragon, shaking Laurence's hand.

Now Saphira uncoiled herself, and came over.  
_Greetings William Laurence, I am Saphira, daughter of Vervada._ Said Saphira.  
Laurence shivered at the mental contact.

Now Joed stepped forward.  
'A pleasure to meet you, William, my name is Joed.' Said Joed, also shaking Laurence's hand.

Arya stepped forward, and grasped Laurence's arm at the elbow.  
'Well met, I am Arya.' She said quietly.  
'Your servant, miss.' Mumbled Laurence indistinctly.  
Arya quirked a small smile. 'Just Arya.' She said.

Murtagh had wandered over to the congregation.  
Laurence turned to face him.  
'Murtagh.' Said Murtagh simply, before shaking Laurence's hand, somewhat reluctantly.  
Laurence noted how taut Murtagh was and put it down to the dislike his fellows had for him.

The boy from before also stepped forward.  
'Noelfavrel, at your service, sir.' He said cautiously, and shook Laurence's proffered hand.

Then Angela came over, with Solembum in his human form.  
'Names be powerful things human, but you may call me Solembum.' Said the werecat in a voice that contained the hint of a purr.  
'I'm sorry?' Asked Laurence in a bemused way.  
Solembum bristled. 'I'm the big black cat you saw earlier today, but I'm more than just your normal cat, I am a werecat.' Said Solembum in a tone that suggested he questioned Laurence's intelligence.

Eragon for his part, had never heard Solembum speak vocally, but he wasn't surprised that Solembum's physical voice was much akin to his mental one.

Finally, Gringlok stepped forward and grasped Laurence's hand.  
'Gringlok Snorrison, at yer service, and this 'ere be Ornthrond.' Said Gringlok, gesturing to the Fanghur who'd accompanied them.

Ornthrond chattered something in dwarvish.  
Laurence frowned. 'What did your dragon just say?' Asked Laurence in confusion.  
Ornthrond chuckled to himself, then added something else, before chuckling some more.

''e said: "It's good to meet you, William Laurence," then 'e said: "You're not very bright, any idiot knows that a Fanghur is an entirely different thing to a dragon."' Translated Gringlok, smirking despite himself.

'That wasn't very polite of you Ornthrond, you should take that back.' Said Temeraire indignantly.  
Ornthrond blinked long and slow, then said two words in heavily accented English:  
'Make me.' Said the Fanghur with a sneer.

Temeraire rose to his feet indignantly, then fell back onto his belly, clutching his head with his hands.  
'Oww….' Said Temeraire in a strained voice, 'okay, just please, stop that keening!' Said the young dragon, then raised his head, looking abashed.  
'What just happened?' Asked Laurence in an unnerved voice.  
'That was Ornthrond's preferred 'unting technique, and also 'is most potent weapon: A mental assault.' Said Gringlok seriously.  
'In the wild, Fanghur hunt by immobilising their prey with their minds so they can't escape, then finishing them with their claws and teeth.' Clarified Arya at Laurence's confused look.

Laurence shook his head.  
Then looked up as he saw Murtagh's red dragon come over.  
The red dragon sighed, then lowered his head until it was in front of Laurence.  
_Hello, Laurence, I am Thorn._ Said the red dragon, with all the reluctance of his rider.  
'An honour, I'm sure.' Said Laurence.

Then he remembered something.  
'Oh yes, an acquaintance of mine is going to see if he can identify what breed of dragon Temeraire is, and he caught word of what you did this afternoon, taking Saphira with you to see Admiral Croft, and he wishes to see you and her.' Said Laurence.

Saphira and Eragon looked at each other.  
'Ok, we'll go.' Said Eragon.  
'And we shall go too.' Said Murtagh, standing beside Thorn.

Ornthrond said something in dwarvish.

Gringlok swore to himself in dwarvish, then grunted in a way that suggested he'd conceded a point.  
'Oh, I suppose I'll have to go as well, and keep Ornthrond out of mischief.' Said the dwarf reluctantly.

Laurence nodded, pleased.  
'Very well, but for now, let us all get some sleep, before the dawn gets here.' He said.

**Okay, it was a bit long,-the longest I've ever put in a single chapter, I believe, but I couldn't think of a better place to leave it.**

**So, you know the drill: Review if you would be so kind.**

**Thank you to Hideout Writer and Dragonman10 for reviewing.**

**Oh, and No One-liners.**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter IV

A Surprise

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

As usual, Eragon was awake shortly after dawn, and wasn't surprised to find Arya and Angela also awake.

The curly haired witch was busy practicing with her hûthvir, the twin blades flashing in the orange sunrise.  
Arya was performing fourth level Rimgar with an ease and balance that made Eragon feel like an uncoordinated fool when he considered his own skill level.

Shaking his head to clear such thoughts aside, Eragon quickly found a clear patch of ground, and began the Rimgar himself.

An hour later, Gringlok awoke, and immediately woke Joed and Noelfavrel.  
Out of preference, they had slept outside, underneath the stars, alien as they were.  
And now, they paid for this luxury, and their habit of early rising:  
None of them had the temerity to awaken Laurence, as he was all but playing host to them.

So instead, Gringlok set to sharpening his axe, Eragon roused Saphira,-much to her annoyance,- and set removed her saddle, before setting about cleaning it.  
This occupied Eragon's attention for the better part of another hour, before he was finished, and still, Laurence was yet to awaken.  
So Eragon used the time to set about oiling his chain mail hauberk.  
By now, Gringlok had polished his axe's haft as well as sharpened it's twin smiles, and was also oiling his armour, and Murtagh and Thorn were also awake.

Half an hour later, Temeraire's growling stomach woke him up, and roughly fifteen minutes later, Laurence emerged from the cottage.  
Upon seeing them, he developed a frown, then his expression became one of utter mortification, and he apologised several times, explaining that he thought he must've been dreaming the events of the day before.

Gringlok muttered something under his breath in dwarvish; something probably not complimentary.

The breakfast Laurence's temporary servant, a local man named Fernao provided, did a great deal to improve the dwarf's mood, and also went down well with Joed, Noelfavrel, Murtagh and Angela.  
Eragon forced himself to eat the first few pieces of bacon, and when he'd overcome his acquired distaste, ate with reserve.

Arya, however, refused the offer of bacon, and accepted only a bowl of plain porridge, before going off to try and find an orchard, or wild fruit trees.  
'What was all that about?' Wondered Laurence, when he saw Arya walking off, wearing the dress she'd 'acquired' while searching for Eragon after the raid on Helgrind on Laurence's advice.  
'The elves do not believe in consuming the flesh of an animal, even in the direst need.' Explained Eragon.  
'That seems foolish to me, why let yourself starve if there are cows or fish plentiful around you?' Asked Temeraire.

Eragon looked at the young, black dragon.  
'Because they have minds of their own as well; they mightn't be as intelligent as dragons or humans, but they have thoughts and feelings of their own.' Explained Eragon.  
Temeraire didn't look convinced, but nodded his head anyway.  
'You'd have to have been inside the mind of the animals surrounding you to understand.' Said Eragon, earning him a look with raised eyebrows from Laurence.

'Mind reading isn't so hard a skill, Will, I could try and teach you if you would be interested in learning,' added Eragon, looking the disbelieving man in the eyes.  
Laurence's look instantly lost the practical disdain for the fantastic as he remembered Eragon was a dyed-in-the-wool magician.  
That he was also an incredibly powerful magician was a moot point.

* * *

The morning was cool and clear, so Laurence and Temeraire decided to fly for the sake of it, before going to see Sir Edward Howe,-Laurence's old friend, a naturalist who was something of an authority of New World and Oriental breeds of dragon.

Naturally, wanting to show off a bit, Ornthrond decided he would also go flying, much to Gringlok's annoyance.  
'Really, I enjoy flying, but not right after breakfast.' Grumbled the dwarf, fingering the head of his axe, but he relented in the end.

From there, Saphira decided to go, flying also, mainly to avoid the snide taunts that Ornthrond would inevitably have to say if Saphira decided against it.  
And not wanting to be out done, Thorn went also, eager to prove himself to Eragon and Saphira.

As a precaution, Eragon also tucked the unhatched egg into his saddlebags, and made sure it was secure.

What followed, for the next hour or so, was an enthusiastic display of highly intricate aerial acrobatics from Saphira, which left Temeraire and Thorn in stunned awe, and left Ornthrond grumbling about what a show-off Saphira was.

For their parts, Gringlok, Murtagh, Laurence, and even Eragon, who had a good idea of Saphira's abilities were suitably impressed.

_I'm a lot more than just a pretty sight._ Said Saphira smugly.  
'That was very well flown,' commented Temeraire, who had only refrained from trying to imitate Saphira's manoeuvres when Eragon had warned him that he was liable to kill Laurence in the process, either by shaking him off, or from buffeting him against his back.  
Saphira hummed with contentment, and projected an image of her dipping her head in recognition of the complement.  
'You'll have to teach me how to do that,' said Temeraire, as they continued to wheel through the air.

* * *

They then proceeded too the bathing pools near Porto Moniz.

When they were spotted, coming in to land by the bathers, and the vendors on the shore, they scattered in terror back towards the town.  
_Idiots, as if we were mere animals that might eat them as soon as we saw them._ Said Saphira in disgust.  
Thorn snorted his agreement as Murtagh climbed down his foreleg.  
Eragon and Gringlok quickly followed suit.  
'What shall we do now, laddie, accompany you, or shall you go and find your friend and bring him here?' Asked Gringlok from beside Ornthrond.

'Wait here, and I shall go and see if I can find Sir Edward,' said Laurence, to the assembled, but laying a hand upon Temeraire's neck as he said it.  
'I will,' said Temeraire absently, already peering at the bathing pools in interest.

Eragon sighed in contentment and settled himself beside the pool, and began to clear his mind, and reach out, meditating.  
He was simultaneously aware of Murtagh pacing back and forth, already impatient with the current goings on, Saphira slipping into the water and submerging herself, Thorn gazing with interest at the rippling reflections, Gringlok wondering about whether it'd be worth taking out his short sword to sharpen, and also of Temeraire deciding to follow Saphira's example and enter the water.

Which he did by pouncing into it.

Eragon only just managed to avoid being soaked by the resultant wave of displaced water, however, Ornthrond, who'd been sitting by the water and listlessly watching the waves, along with Thorn, were both hit by the wave created by Temeraire's entrance into the water.  
Eragon stood wearily, and couldn't help but chuckle at Ornthrond, hissing in indignant fury, and growling a long stream of invective in dwarvish.

Gringlok prudently went and lead the angry Fanghur away from the pool before he had the notion to launch a mental assault against Temeraire, who'd just resurfaced and began paddling around the pool, oblivious to the minor drama he'd caused.  
Saphira cast a sideways glance back at the shore when she resurfaced,-she'd stayed under the water twice as long as Temeraire,- and couldn't help chuckling when she saw Thorn, sodden and sulking out of range of the pool, should Temeraire create another wave, along with Ornthrond who was indignantly beating his wings in an attempt to dry them off.

It wasn't long after that Laurence reappeared, along with Sir Edward.

At Laurence's concerned call, Temeraire exited the water, leaving Saphira to continue swimming alone, although she, like Eragon was more interested in why Sir Edward had wished to see them.  
They approached, along with Temeraire, and Eragon heard Sir Edward mention something about internal air sacs, which made Eragon frown; none of Oromis's scrolls or texts on the subject of dragon's had mentioned any such thing.  
_It must be something more associated with dragons of this world, remember, Thorn and I fly partly by magic._ Said Saphira, and Eragon set his confusion aside.

'Ah, you must be the man responsible for raising that ruckus in Funchal yesterday,' said Sir Edward, upon seeing Eragon.  
'Sir Edward Howe,' he said, offering a hand.  
'Eragon Bromsson,' replied Eragon politely, 'if you don't mind my asking, why were you so anxious to meet Saphira and I?' Asked Eragon.

Sir Edward had been looking intently at Saphira, but he answered anyway.  
'When I heard the description given of your dragon, I couldn't help but be interested, a dragon with iridescent blue scales? I have never heard of any species possessing such a trait, so I had to see for myself.' Said Sir Edward.  
Saphira growled low in her throat, and, despite it not being her usual form, spoke directly with the man.  
_Sir Edward, my name is Saphira, and I am not some idiot-sheep to be talked of as if I did not understand a word you were saying._ She said, not bothering to hide her seething irritation.

Sir Edward paled slightly, and swayed, but kept his composure.  
'My apologies, Saphira,' said Sir Edward, abashed, and averted his gaze from Saphira for a moment.  
'If you would be so kind, might you go and stand by that tree over the way, and spread your wings so I might see you better?' Asked Sir Edward.  
Saphira nodded once.  
_I could, and I shall, but I believe that if you leave Temeraire waiting much longer, he is going to explode with anticipation._ She replied.

With a start, Sir Edward turned back to Temeraire.  
'My apologies, Temeraire.' Said the man, sounding slightly embarrassed.  
'It does not bother me at all, having to wait, and it was an honest mistake on your part, but could you please tell me what breed I am?' Asked Temeraire.

_That dragon has got all the subtlety of Roran's hammer._ Said Saphira with amusement.  
_Aye, but he's honest at least, but it doesn't appear as if hereditary memory is something to be found here either._ Said Eragon.  
_There does seem to be a lack of uncanny wisdom to that one._ Agreed a new voice, it was definitely a male dragon, but it seemed hesitant, as if unsure of it's welcome.  
_Glad to see you finally decided to say something Thorn._ Said Saphira with a hint of amusement.

An astonished exclamation from Sir Edward brought the Alagaësians back to the here and now.

'Laurence, my god, those wings!' Said Sir Edward, and quickly crossed the distance between them and Temeraire, who'd gone to stand by the tree Sir Edward had pointed out to Saphira.  
Eragon, Murtagh, Saphira and Thorn, also came forward, just behind Laurence.  
When they caught up, Sir Edward was gently stroking one of the six spines that divided the delicate membrane of Temeraire's wing, gazing at it with a greedy passion.  
Temeraire had craned his head around to watch, and didn't seem to mind having his wing handled thus.

'Do you recognise him, then?' Laurence asked Sir Edward hesitantly; the man looked rather overwhelmed.  
'If by, you mean have I ever seen his like before, then no, there can scarcely be three men in the entirety of Europe who have, and just from this one glance, I could have enough material to address the Royal Society,' Sir Edward answered. 'But the wings are irrefutable, and the number of talons,: he is a Chinese Imperial, although I have no idea which line.'

Eragon was left blank by this.  
Laurence had shown Eragon a world map, which Eragon had made a fairth of, before returning it, but much to his annoyance, had been unable to make head nor tail of the alphabet that the names on the map were written in.  
Joed, Arya and Gringlok had been likewise perplexed.  
So he thus had no idea as to which regions Sir Edward was referring.  
As to Temeraire's breed, Eragon couldn't see what all the fuss was about:  
A dragon was a dragon, whether it was black, red, green, gold, silver blue or brown, unless it was a large Fanghur.

'Will I be able to breath fire?' Asked Temeraire, once more snapping Eragon out of his thoughts.  
'Dear creature, the very best possible, only the Celestials are more rare or valuable, and were you one, I suppose the Chinese would go to war over our having put you into harness, so we must be glad you are not,' Sir Edward said.  
Saphira hissed in distaste.  
_How can you speak of rarity? A dragon is dragon, whether they be large, small, bright or drab, and should be equally respected._ She said.  
Sir Edward looked startled at this, and enquired as to what she meant.

Which left Eragon trying to find a way to explain Galbatorix's brutal rise to power without having to spend a long time over it.  
Eventually he settled on giving the simple version.  
'In our homeland, dragons have been driven to the brink of extinction, Saphira, Thorn, an unhatched egg, and a black dragon by the name of Shruikan, who is in the service of the tyrant Galbatorix are the sole survivors of their…breed, after Galbatorix nearly wiped them out during his rise to power.' Said Eragon, stumbling slightly with having to use 'breed' instead of 'race'.

A look of profound sorrow crossed Sir Edwards face.  
'That is terrible, and I see now why your dragon sees it so.' He said.  
'It is a sentiment shared by her rider, Thorn, myself, and many others in our homeland.' Commented Murtagh icily.

'I am sorry to interrupt, but will I be able to breath fire?' Asked Temeraire plaintively.  
Sir Edward looked thoughtful for a moment.  
'I will not rule it out,' he said a t last, 'but I think it unlikely, the Chinese breed first for grace and intelligence; the Japanese are more likely to seek such abilities in their lines, but the Chinese have such overwhelming air superiority that they have no need t seek such traits.'  
'Oh.' Said Temeraire glumly.  
_I'm sure you would be able to if you truly wanted too, stranger things are known to happen around dragons._ Said Thorn encouragingly.  
Temeraire cocked his head at the red dragon, before raising his head fractionally.  
'Temeraire, do not be so glum, it is the most famous news anyone could imagine.' Laurence said, now sure that it could be no joke.

A stray thought struck Eragon, and he couldn't help but smile.  
_Perhaps you would like to see what 'breed' you are?_ Eragon asked Saphira sardonically.  
_Why not?_ Agreed Saphira, with a hint of amusement.

'Would you be able to try and identify what breed Thorn and Saphira are?' Asked Eragon, carefully.  
Sir Edward glanced away from Temeraire for a moment.  
'I can try, but I can't promise that I'll be able to help you.' Said the naturalist.

At Sir Edward's prompting, Saphira and Thorn walked back to where they'd been standing a moment before, and spread their wings, looking as they usually did in such whether, like incandescent gemstones.  
When they spread their wings, and held still, Sir Edward made a spluttering gasp, and his mouth fell open, he mouthed stupidly for a moment, then a couple of synapses connected in his brain.  
'I don't believe it- it can't be, it's only a myth…' He broke off, and shook his head in disbelief.  
'What is it?' Asked Eragon, anything that shocked a learned man to such a degree was usually a long way out of the ordinary.  
'I have never seen a dragon like that pair before, and no European in history has I daresay, and only a scarce handful of the Chinese could claim to have seen one of their kind before,' whispered Sir Edward in stunned awe.  
'My boy, your Saphira, I have only ever heard of her sought in an old Chinese legend of when the Chinese drove the Mongols from their lands after the coming of Genghis Khan; even among the Chinese, she would be considered a myth given life.' He said.

'But what breed are they?' Asked Murtagh in irritation.  
'The only dragon of their kind known in legend, is called by the Chinese _Fei lung: _'Ethereal dragon'.' Answered Sir Edward still in a voice of awed quiet.  
'I think you should tell us this legend.' Said Gringlok gravely.

Sir Edward nodded.  
'Considering in the legend how this dragon's rider claimed to be from another world, and I daresay you have a similar tale, I think I had better.' He said.

This came as a real surprise to Eragon.

**Yes, I have gone and glued a couple of IC characters to the **_**Temeraire **_**storyline.**

**So shoot me.**

**The story will turn out quite different in the end, I can assure you.**

**And it is just plain fun to write, my only cause for Writer's Block here is in plot deviation and character deviation.**

**Consider this a mid-week treat.**

**Review after reading, if you would be so kind.**

**Today's special mentions: ****Hideout Writer****, my sole consistent reviewer, and also ****Bobbish**** for the Favourite Story add.**

**Much as I like Favourite adds, Reviews really make my day.**

**No One-liners.**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter V

Revelations and Explanations

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

Eragon and Murtagh walked uncomfortably with Laurence and Sir Edward back to Sir Edward's hotel, where they'd been invited to tea.  
Gringlok had refused,- Ornthrond had begun nosing around for something to eat,- and for the sake of avoiding another panic, Saphira and Thorn had stayed with Temeraire by the bathing pools.

Which left Eragon and Murtagh to walk with Laurence as they went with Sir Edward to take tea.  
And Eragon couldn't help but remember, seeing through Glaedr's eyes, the battle above Gil'ead.  
And, judging from Murtagh's taut shoulders, and stiff jaw, he too, was acutely aware of that battle.

'It wasn't me you know.' Said Murtagh quietly, to Eragon as they entered the town.  
Eragon said nothing.  
'Eragon, I swear to you, if I had've been in control during those final moments of that fight, I wouldn't have struck.' Said Murtagh, the desperate imploring of a plea in his voice.  
'And what about the Burning Plains Murtagh? What is your excuse for killing King Hrothgar?' Asked Eragon coldly.

Murtagh's shoulders slumped further.  
'I was under orders then: To capture you, and sow as much confusion among Galbatorix's enemies as possible; and when I saw you standing alongside Hrothgar, and he so visible, the thought crossed my mind that his death would throw the dwarves into chaos, and once the idea had occurred to me, Galbatorix's orders forced me to it.' He spoke in a monotone, emotionlessly, neither taking pride in Hrothgar's death, nor trying to deny responsibility.

Eragon gave Murtagh a cold look.  
'And I suppose you were Galbatorix's puppet when you killed Oromis and Glaedr then?'  
'For all the good it does me in your eyes, I might as well not have been.' Said Murtagh bitterly. 'I suppose you'll never be able to erase my stain from your reputation, eh? _Brother?_' He continued mockingly.  
'You were wrong about that Murtagh, Brom was my father, Selena was our mother; we are half-brothers.' Said Eragon in the ancient language. 'Enjoy bearing the name of the second most hated man in Alagaësia alone.' Said Eragon neutrally, although inside, he couldn't help but savour the look of shock on Murtagh's face.  
'Bastard.' Said Murtagh at last.  
'See if I care.' Said Eragon indifferently, and picked up his pace, leaving Murtagh to look after him with a half-anguished half-angry look on his face.

'What was all that about?' Asked Laurence, curious despite himself.  
Eragon gave a bitter laugh. 'Family issues with my dear half-brother.' He said.  
'You're half-brothers?' Asked Laurence in surprise.  
'Yes, if you're wondering, Murtagh is the legitimate son of Galbatorix's first supporter, and I'm the bastard son of another rider.' Said Eragon, with the same indifference.  
'Then how did you come to fight on opposite sides?' Asked Laurence.  
'Bad luck and treachery, it was shortly after the battle of Farthen Dûr, and the then-leader of the Varden, Ajihad had been hunting down the remnants of the army still capable of posing a threat, Murtagh had also been helping, trying to prove he wasn't like his father, when they were returning from the most recent hunt, they were ambushed, and we assumed everyone had been slain, however, roughly six months later, at the battle of the Burning Plains, Murtagh resurfaced, along with the two traitors that had had Ajihad killed, and kidnapped Murtagh; they'd taken him to Galbatorix, who made him swear a quite literally nigh-unbreakable oath of fealty to him when Thorn hatched for him; _that_ is how we came to be on opposite sides of our world-changing war.' Explained Eragon.  
'Then you and he are people of importance in your homeland?' Asked Laurence, dropping all pretences of mere curiosity.

Eragon couldn't help but give a tight grin.  
'We are, also, it's something of a running joke among the command-structure of the Varden that between me and Murtagh, Lady Nasuada spends most of her time worrying about members of my family.'  
At this Laurence nodded politely, although he really couldn't see what was funny about the situation.

Thankfully, Murtagh had regained an air of control when they reached Sir Edwards hotel suite.  
A maid brought tea, and for a few minutes, everyone was silent, simply enjoying their tea.  
Then Sir Edward broke the silence.

'I'm sorry if you find this rude, but I couldn't help but overhear before but, did you say that that red dragon, Thorn, _chose_ to hatch for Murtagh?' He asked.  
Eragon nodded.  
'Yes I did, why do you ask?' He replied.  
'By that do you mean Murtagh was at Thorn's hatching, and that Thorn chose Murtagh as his rider after he hatched?' Clarified Sir Edward.  
Eragon shook his head.  
'No, by that I meant, that when Murtagh first touched Thorn's egg, Thorn must have decided to hatch for Murtagh, because Murtagh was fated to be his rider.' Replied Eragon.  
'But surely such a thing can be mere superstition?' Said Sir Edward frowning.

Even though it was the middle of the day, and the room well lit, a candle stood in the middle of the table.  
'Brisingr.' Said Murtagh, and instantly, the candle ignited.  
'Great God!' Exclaimed Sir Edward in surprise.  
'Perhaps I can explain more clearly,' said Murtagh dryly. 'As you just saw, I possess some skill with magic, and Eragon also, that is due to the bond we share with our respective dragons; unlike here, where this appears to mean that the rider, or aviator, or whatever you call them here, was present when that dragon hatched, simply form an emotional attachment to that person, and has no actual effect on them.' He said.  
'What Murtagh means is, that the dragon riders of our homeland are completely different to any equivalent you would have heard of,' said Eragon. 'When an egg was given to the riders, before Galbatorix's coup, an enchantment was placed on the egg so that it wouldn't hatch until the dragon inside was brought into the presence of the person destined to be it's rider,' he continued. 'When the egg hatched for that person, and that person first touched the hatchling, a permanent telepathic link was formed between the dragon and rider, which would only be broken by the death of either the dragon or the rider.'

Sir Edward's expression cleared as he fit the pieces together.  
'Ah, that makes much more sense now, I still find it hard to believe that magic exists, but that certainly makes more sense now.' He said.

Laurence however was frowning.  
'But surely that would mean that when a dragon's rider died of old age, that dragon would become so distraught as to die shortly afterward?' He said.

Now Eragon and Murtagh couldn't help but laugh uproariously.  
'Do you remember when I said that Galbatorix staged his coup some hundred years ago?' Asked Eragon, struggling to contain his mirth.  
'I assumed you would've been fighting his great grandson.' Admitted Laurence, trying to figure out what was so funny.  
'No, we're fighting that same black-hearted bastard.' Said Murtagh.  
'How is that possible? That would mean he'd be over a hundred years old!' Exclaimed Laurence.  
'As you've probably noticed, Saphira and Thorn are a lot more than they appear, dragons of our homeland are, by their very nature, mysterious, although that is through no fault of their own, they are creatures of magic, capable of inexplicable feats, that if a human, or an elf, dwarf or even a rider attempted, would leave them dead.' Said Murtagh.  
'One of the most common side-effects for a human becoming a rider,-aside from their features becoming angled like those of the elves,- is immortality.' Said Eragon, at last taking pity on Laurence, who was becoming more and more lost as to what Murtagh was talking about.  
'Immortality? You don't mean to tell me-' Laurence broke off and stared at Eragon and Murtagh in disbelief. 'You're joking.' He said.  
'We're not.' Replied Eragon and Murtagh simultaneously.  
'But then- you'll never die?' Asked Laurence in disbelief.  
'Unless blade, poison, unfortunate accident, overuse of magic, or a spell from another magic user takes us.' Said Murtagh.

'Now, I have a question for you,' said Eragon, looking at Sir Edward, 'what is all this business to do with 'breeds of dragons?' 'In my experience, all dragons are the same, save for colouration, age, size and personality.'  
'But surely that drab coloured dragon that was with you, surely he is just a sub-species of dragon?' Asked Sir Edward.  
Eragon quirked a small smile. 'I would not let him hear you say that, and no, Ornthrond is not a dragon, he is a Fanghur, they're native to the Beor Mountains in our homeland, and are found nowhere else, however, they're related to dragons, but they aren't true dragons.' He said.

'Well,' said Sir Edward, taking another draft of tea, 'in this world,- don't be so surprised, your dragons fit the description given in the myth of the _Fei lung_ too closely to be anything but members of the same breed, so naturally you come from the same world as the first Shen,- dragons don't simply just fly, breath fire, some species spit acid, some breath fire, some have no such abilities, and many of the first wild breeds have been bred for thousands of years to develop abilities useful in warfare.' Explained Sir Edward. 'Also, not all dragons are the same size, some stay so small they're only good for courier duty,-helping deliver mail, getting people places in a hurry, scouting, things like that,- while some can reach up to a hundred feet or more in length at their full size.' He continued, draining the last of his tea.

Eragon and Murtagh were silent for a while.  
'It seems the term 'dragon' is a lot broader than it is in Alagaësia.' Said Murtagh at last, thoughtfully.  
'Alagaësia?' Asked Sir Edward.  
'The name of the land we herald from.' Clarified Eragon.  
Sir Edward nodded once.

'Well, I've been trying to recall the legend of the Fei dragon, but I'm afraid I can't recall it, I suppose you'll either have to go to China yourself to hear it, but I believe I have a copy of written down somewhere at my home in London…' He trailed off.  
'I'm sorry for wasting your time.' He said at last.  
'No matter, but if you find this written copy of the legend, could you send us it? It could be our way home.' Said Murtagh.  
'Oh yes, I shall,' he said, then hesitated and bit his lip. 'You wouldn't have a fragment of Thorn's eggshell would you?' Asked Sir Edward curiously.  
Murtagh shook his head. 'No, I'm afraid I don't.' He said.  
'Ah well.' Said Sir Edward regretfully.

A thought struck Eragon, and he quickly ran it by Saphira.  
_He may be an ally worth having, I think it a necessary risk._ Said Saphira sagely.  
'Perhaps you would like to see an actual egg?' Asked Eragon.

* * *

Sir Edward was delighted with the prospect, and after having given Laurence a great many books on dragons, as well as some dealing specifically with Chinese dragons, he followed them back to where Saphira, Thorn and Temeraire waited.

While Laurence went to purchase a meal for Temeraire, Eragon quickly dug in his saddle bags, and reverently lifted out the green dragon egg.  
Sir Edward took it carefully, and gave it such a tender look, he could've been looking at a newborn son.  
'It is a good deal smaller than I expected.' He said.  
'And yet, the dragon in that egg will grow for the entirety of his life, dragons of Alagaësia never stop growing.' Said Eragon.

At length, having taken measurements of the egg, as well as other observations, Sir Edward bid them good day, and headed back to town, as Laurence returned, dragging a terrified sheep with him, and when the sheep saw Temeraire, Saphira and Thorn, he was forced to carry it.

As a pre-emptive vengeance, just moments before Laurence dropped the animal in front of Temeraire, it voided it's bowel over his jacket, leaving Laurence to wash it as Temeraire began tearing into the sheep, spattering gore everywhere.  
_How does he stand the wool?_ Wondered Saphira, recalling how every time she ate sheep, the silly creature's wool would always get stuck between her teeth, and irritate her mouth.

Eragon settled himself down, and drifted into his waking dreams as Temeraire and Laurence swam in the bathing pools.  
For a moment, Eragon was content, there was no danger at present, Saphira was safe, and with a moment to relax, Eragon let himself go.  
It was during this, that Eragon's mind drifted back roughly a year, to Tierm, in particular Angela's fortune telling.  
'…_Look closely at this bone. You can see how it's end rests on the sailing ship. That is impossible to misunderstand. Your fate will be to leave this land forever…'  
_Eragon shot bolt upright, all sense of peace leaving him.  
_It cannot be…_ Thought Eragon, a chill creeping down his spine.

**Score!**

**Two chapters in the one day!**

**I can't really honestly put in a special mention, due to the fact I only posted Chapter four about five hours ago, so sorry ****Hideout Writer****.**

**So, tell me what you think so far.**

**No One-liners!**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter VI

A Frosty Reception

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

A while later, when Temeraire and Laurence had tired of swimming, and they were heading back to the cottage, Eragon confided his private fear to Saphira.  
_If that is the case, then it is not so bad a fate after all, we have each other, we have many of our friends with us, and we have a whole new world before us._ Said Saphira.  
To Eragon, it sounded slightly selfish, but he knew Saphira meant only to reassure him, and he could not bring himself to argue.

Eragon glanced around, taking in the surrounds.  
Gringlok and Ornthrond had returned to Laurence's cottage shortly after he and Murtagh had left for tea with Sir Edward and Laurence.

Thorn and Murtagh were flying on Temeraire's left, and he and Saphira were flying on Temeraire's right.  
It appeared as if Laurence was talking with Temeraire, but the distance, and the wind rendered any chance of hearing moot.

All of a sudden, a loud, bugling call from ahead split the whistling of the winds.  
Temeraire called back, seeming to Eragon, slightly hesitantly.  
Saphira and Thorn also called back, although with far more confidence.

The three put on a fresh burst of speed, Temeraire pulling ahead of Saphira and Thorn, and soon they saw the source of the call:  
A pale grey dragon with mottled white markings on it's belly, and white striations across it's wings, almost invisible against the cloud cover that had blown in a couple of hours before.  
It was a good three bowshots above them.  
It swooped down quickly, and took a position between Temeraire and Saphira.

Eragon eyed the newcomer with interest, aside from the dragon's colouration, which reminded Eragon of one of the first Fanghur that he and Saphira had encountered, it was maybe half Saphira's size.  
Also, like Saphira, it could glide a long while on a single wing beat, though not as long as Saphira.  
The dragon's rider was wearing a heavy leather coat the same shade of grey as the dragon's scales with an equally heavy hood.  
After unhooking several clasps on it, he pushed it back off his head.

'Captain James, on Volatilus, dispatch service,' he said, looking back and forth between Laurence, Eragon, and Murtagh with open curiosity.  
After a brief hesitation, Laurence called back.  
'Captain Laurence of His Majesty's Navy, on Temeraire, I am presently unassigned. Are you headed for Funchal?'  
'Navy? Yes, I am, and I expect you had better as well after that introduction,' James said; he had a pleasant-looking long face, but Laurence's reply had marred it with a deep frown.  
'How old is that dragonet, and where did you get him?'  
'I am three weeks and five days out of the shell, and Laurence won me in a battle,' Temeraire said, before Laurence could reply. 'How did you meet James?' he asked, addressing the other dragon.  
Volatilus blinked large, milky blue eyes and said, in a bright voice, 'I was hatched! From an egg!'

Eragon didn't follow the conversation any further, because Captain James had shifted his attention to Eragon.  
'And who might you be?' He asked.  
'Rider Eragon Shadeslayer, my dragon is Saphira Brightscales, I am a stranger here, but I would like a word regarding what I might do in terms of joining your fight against the French.' Called Eragon back.

Then James shifted his attention to Murtagh.  
'And what about you?' Called Captain James over to Murtagh.  
'Rider Murtagh, my dragon is Thorn, we follow Eragon.' Replied Murtagh shortly.

'Sir, if you have questions, they can be best answered on the ground,' said Laurence, coolly.  
'Temeraire and I are staying just outside the town, and Eragon, Murtagh and their cohorts are staying there also, do you care to accompany us, or shall we follow you to your landing grounds?'  
James had been looking from Temeraire, to Saphira, to Thorn and back to Temeraire, and he answered Laurence with a little more warmth, 'Oh, let us go to yours; the moment I set down officially I will be mobbed by people wanting to send parcels, we will not be able to talk.'  
'Very well; it is a field to the south-west of the city,' Laurence said. 'Temeraire, pray take the lead.'

* * *

What followed, came rather close on to being a race.  
Saphira and Thorn,-who although had eaten the day before decided to take advantage of the free meals,- put on bursts of speed, outstripping Temeraire by at least a bowshot.  
The grey dragon had no difficulty keeping up with Temeraire, and indeed, seemed rather eager to try his luck racing Thorn and Saphira.  
As Eragon glanced back, he made a note of this.

_I think I know what Sir Edward meant now,_ said Eragon to Saphira, _that Volatilus is rather quick to be able to keep pace with Temeraire, but he appears to have about the same intelligence as those wild Fanghur we encountered when we left Tarnag; He must have been bred for speed.  
__I don't think much of the runtling who did so at the expense of intelligence. _Said Saphira disdainfully.  
_It does seem a strange way they have here._ Admitted Eragon.

* * *

Saphira and Thorn landed practically simultaneously, and Temeraire and Volatilus a bare thirty seconds later.  
Ornthrond, who was midway through a cow, growled threateningly at Volatilus, and pulled his kill closer, baring his fangs.  
Then broke off as Gringlok gruffly told him to behave himself.  
The remaining cattle began lowing anxiously.

Eragon and Murtagh quickly removed their dragon's saddles, then turned their attention to James and Laurence, as Saphira, Thorn, Volatilus and Temeraire went to the cattle pen.  
'It is uncommonly generous of you, and of him, I've never seen one of the big ones share like that.' Commented James, as the four walked to the cottage.

Inside, they met with Joed, Arya, Noelfavrel and Angela in the sitting room, talking quietly, whilst Solembum slept curled up by the fire, whilst Angela knitted, using her unusual five-needle method.  
Introductions were quickly made, then James enquired about Temeraire.  
'I have never seen his like before; what breed is he?' Asked James.

Eragon quickly made mental contact with Arya, and relayed the entirety of the meeting with Sir Edward.  
Her frown disappeared, and she nodded imperceptibly, showing she'd understood.

'I am not an expert myself, and he came to us without provenance; but Sir Edward Howe has just today identified him as an Imperial,' Laurence said, sounding to Eragon slightly embarrassed.  
James sat forward in his seat at the small table in the room.  
'Are you- oh lord, you aren't joking,' he said, before handing his leather coat to Fernao.  
'But how did you come to put him into harness?' Asked James.

Eragon, and the rest of the Alagaësians listened with as much interest as James as Laurence recounted the story of how he'd come to find Temeraire's egg aboard a French frigate he'd captured three weeks previously, and then of how the fresh-hatched dragon had simply ignored the sailor who'd been drawn to attempt to harness him in preference to Laurence.  
James also listened, and with equal interest, going through five cups of a bitter-tasting brew Laurence called coffee, and two plates of sandwiches.

'So you see, I'm at something of a loss; Admiral Croft has written a dispatch to the Corps at Gibraltar asking for instructions regarding my situation, which I trust you will carry, but I confess I would be grateful for some idea of what to expect,' he finished.  
'You're asking the wrong fellow, I'm afraid,' James said cheerfully, draining a sixth cup of coffee.  
'Never heard of anything like it, and I can't even give you advance warning about training. I was sold off for dispatch service by the time I was twelve, and on Volly by fourteen; you'll be doing heavy combat with your beauty.'

'Now, what about you, Eragon Shadeslayer, what brings you from wherever it is you came from to beat the stuffing out of the Frogs?' Asked James.  
It took Eragon a while to give James the story of the war in Alagaësia, the fact Alagaësia was in another world, how they'd come to be in this world, the bond he and Murtagh shared with their respective dragons, the magic, and finally, the orders he'd received from Nasuada regarding what they should do in regards to thwarting Galbatorix's scheme.  
'Bloody hell, and I thought he told a tall story.' Said James incredulously, indicating Laurence.

Eragon sent Noelfavrel out to fetch the egg, before, with a muttered '_adurna rïsa,' _causing the dregs of James' coffee to rise to his eye level.  
This left the aviator suitably awed and impressed, and when Noelfavrel returned, bearing the egg, he just stared dumbly at it.  
'Well, that is a fine thing, and no two ways about it, I've never seen an egg like this one before.' Said James, gazing at the moss-green, harder-than-diamond shell with a look of wonder.  
'You never mentioned any such orders, or this egg yesterday.' Observed Laurence.  
'I only contacted Lady Nasuada last night, and I haven't had no reason to raise the subject before now.' Replied Eragon coolly, then shifted his attention back to James, before extending a hand.  
The man gave the egg back, without reluctance.

'Do you think your Aerial Corp would be willing to accept a motley crew of other-worldly rebels, two Riders with magic powers and two beings of myth?' Asked Eragon.  
James gave a crooked grin.  
'Oh, I suppose so, we're rather thin on the ground in terms of numbers of dragons, so I'm sure they won't be too picky as to who they'll take, so long as they don't mind heavy fighting.' He answered.  
'I expect that what with an Imperial, and the crews of two 'foreign' dragons wishing to join our fight, you'll have a senior cap here by dinnertime tomorrow.' Said James easily.  
'I beg your pardon, a senior what?' Asked Laurence, sounding desperate to Eragon.  
'A senior captain,' James said. 'You'll make a flyer; I almost forget I'm not talking to one.'

'Well, if you could write down a missive for us, it would be much appreciated,' interrupted Joed, pulling both men back to the present. 'Your written alphabet is completely different to ours, and not one of us can read a letter of it.' Said Joed gloomily, looking to a small bookshelf in the corner of the room, and regarding the books mournfully.

Laurence was surprised to hear that none of them could read English.  
'But you speak it just the same as us, how is it you can't write it?' He asked.  
In response, Joed exited the house, and returned shortly afterward with a red-leather covered book.  
Eragon realised with a start it was his copy of _Domia abr Wyrda._

Then he remembered that in his distress over Oromis's demise, he hadn't bothered unpacking Saphira's saddle bags of his personal effects.  
_Oh dear, and we've forgotten all about Glaedr too!_ Realised Eragon with a sickening jolt.  
_He is quite safe Eragon, I will not let anything befall him whilst I watch._ Assured Saphira, where she was curled up outside.

'Can you read this?' Asked Joed, opening the book a few pages, and showing it to Laurence.  
Laurence shook his head. 'No, I have seen these runes before, but I don't believe I've ever met anyone who can read them.' He said.  
'And your alphabet looks like a bunch of circles, squiggles and lines to us.' Said Angela brightly.  
Laurence ignored her.

'So what is this bok anyway?' He asked.  
'_Domia abr Wyrda;_ the Dominance of Fate, a complete history of Alagaësia, from long before the elves crossed the sea, and ending a few decades ago.' Said Joed fondly, before returning the book to Eragon.  
'I'm sorry for having to search your saddle bags like that Eragon, but I'm afraid I left my own copy back with the Varden.' He said apologetically.  
'Naturally.' Said Murtagh dryly.

Laurence wearily went and fetched an ink bottle, a quill and a sheet of paper, before sitting at the table.  
'Okay, so what do you want me to write?' He asked.

* * *

It took roughly an hour and a further two sheets of paper for Eragon to explain his situation, which wasn't helped by having to explain it all, and Eragon was quite tempted to ask Joed just to go along with James to Gibraltar with Arya, and read them the last few chapters of _Domia abr Wyrda_, and get Arya to demonstrate her powers.  
But eventually, he deemed the letter sufficient, and it was away with James and Volly soon after.

'I think we can assume that we just kicked a hornet's nest.' Said Arya gravely.  
'Well, considering how accepting that man was, maybe it won't be all that bad.' Said Noelfavrel from his bedroll.  
'I wouldn't count on it laddie, you'll just end up disappointed.' Said Gringlok, from where he sat beside Ornthrond smoking a pipe.  
It was growing late, Temeraire was asleep, and Murtagh and Thorn sat watching the sun set.

Eragon had recounted the days events to everyone, including Sir Edward's revelation that not only might there be another Alagaësian dragon in this world, but also another rider.  
'As for this business of different types of dragon, instead from all appearing relatively similar, with the same abilities, it is not all that hard to believe.' Said Arya, 'and who knows, if they're so common here, by the time this misadventure is over, we could all be Riders.' She said.  
She could have been joking, but there was nothing in her tone to suggest it.

Eragon could tell she didn't feel all that comfortable with the thought that all that really separated any dragon of this world from their wild counter-parts was a fallible emotional attachment to whichever human the dragon may accept as their 'captain', as James had called those who were actually responsible for the dragon's well-being.

'Maybe we should try and become Captains,' mused Joed, 'such variety of dragons could only make them stronger, and with just Saphira as the one-and-only female dragon left, then in-breeding is inescapable, no matter what.' He explained, when the others looked at him.  
'What you say does make sense.' Admitted Arya, then, 'Eragon, did Oromis teach you the enchantment laid on the dragon eggs given to the Riders?' She asked.  
Eragon nodded silently. 'He did, but it mightn't work on the dragons of this world, they don't seem to possess the instinctive magic Saphira and Thorn have.' He said, when Arya's eyes didn't leave him.

* * *

It came as no surprise to Eragon the next day, that James' estimate had been accurate.  
Laurence had just set out for the town, the next afternoon, when a great shadow crossed the harbour.  
Eragon looked up, and beheld an enormous red-and-gold dragon fly overhead, making for the landing grounds on the outskirts of the town.  
Eragon quickly passed the word to Murtagh, Joed, Gringlok and Arya.

The five of them were ready to set off, just in time to meet an exhausted runner from the _Commendable_ not ten minutes later.  
'And Admiral Croft told me to tell the one named Eragon to leave the bloody dragon behind this time, and he told me to say those exact words.' Said the runner, before starting back towards the town.  
They soon caught up with Laurence on the road.  
The six of them entered Admiral Croft's stateroom together.

Two strangers, that Eragon guessed were aviators were also waiting inside.  
At the Admiral's request, Eragon and the others waited outside, while they gave Laurence his new orders.  
They needn't have bothered.  
Thanks to his inhumanly sharp hearing, Eragon heard every word, and so did Arya.

'What a underhanded, filthy thing to do.' She said vehemently.  
Eragon quickly relayed the development to Saphira.  
_Trying to convince him to take another rider instead of his first choice; foolishness, don't these clowns know that a dragon's mind isn't as easily changed as a humans?_ Said Saphira in disgust.  
_You should warn Temeraire, but only if it looks like he will fall for the trick._ Suggested Eragon.  
_I will, do you think that these idiots will try a similar trick with us?_ Asked Saphira.  
_If they do, then they're fools, but as my father once said: "You can't argue with every fool in the world, sometimes it's easier to let them have their own way, and trick them when they aren't looking."_ Said Eragon.  
_Well, I would enjoy showing them how foolish their plan to try and get Temeraire to take another rider instead of Laurence is._ Admitted Saphira.

Shortly afterward, Laurence exited the cabin, looking to Eragon to be riven with guilt.  
'He'll make the right choice, whichever it is.' Said Arya reassuringly, and received a startled look in response.  
But Laurence walked away looking at least slightly happier, and not as broken as before.

* * *

Eragon, Murtagh, Joed, Arya and Gringlok entered the cabin at last and stood before Admiral Croft and the two aviators.  
Introductions were once again made quickly.

'So,' said the older of the two aviators, a Captain Portland. 'I understand it that you wish to join our fight against France, in the hopes of defeating them, and preventing this Galbatorix from using Bonaparte's army to reinforce his own?' He asked.  
'That is the simplified version, but none-the-less accurate because of it.' Confirmed Eragon.  
The second man, Lieutenant Dayes just gazed coolly between them all.  
'And I'm also to believe by your missive that you are also in the possession of a one-of-a-kind dragon egg?' Captain Portland asked.  
'We are, but if it is all the same to you, we'll be holding onto it.' Said Arya coldly.

Captain Portland looked at her sharply.  
Arya locked eyes with him, and stared until he looked away.

'Well, as far as negotiating your terms of service go, I'm not really the person to say, and you made it abundantly clear that while your dragons are formidable against infantry, you have no experience fighting ships, and that they have limited experience fighting other dragons, as such, I believe that it would be prudent to try and get them to accept one of my own crew as their Captains instead of you.' Said Captain Portland.  
'That's out of the question, unless you have a crewmember you don't particularly like, or want to see dead, I warn you not to even attempt it; Saphira would kill your man for merely suggesting it.' Said Eragon.  
'Aye, and Ornthrond be the same, I raised him from when 'e 'atched, and was no bigger than a 'ouse cat, 'e'll answer to no-one but me.' Said Gringlok, slapping a closed fist to his chest.  
'Likewise with Thorn, if you tried to convince him to take you as a rider instead of me, he'd kill you without a second thought.' Said Murtagh firmly.

'If you're worried about Saphira being unable to fight against other dragons, she was trained in aerial combat by a dragon roughly the same size as your own, and he had nearly three centuries experience, and was roughly three times her size; she is more than capable of holding her own, and so am I.' Said Eragon.  
'Ah yes, this so-called 'magic' of yours.' Said Dayes scornfully.  
Eragon raised his eyebrows, and gesture to Admiral Croft's desk. 'Rïsa.' He said, and the desk floated a foot into the air, and hung there a moment before the three stupefied men, before lowering back to the floor with a dull thud.

The three men were silent for a full minute.  
'…Be that as it may, you still have no experience fighting as we do in the air.' Said Dayes pointedly.  
'We're willing to learn whatever is necessary to further our goal of ousting Galbatorix from the throne.' Said Murtagh firmly in reply.  
'And a backwoods bastard like you would be so much use against the French-' Dayes broke off as Murtagh held Zar'roc to the side of his neck.  
'I'd be silent if I were you.' Said Murtagh dangerously.  
The fact that Zar'roc looked like it was covered in blood already leant gravity to Murtagh's words.

'Stand down, there is no duelling in the Aerial Corps.' Said Captain Portland with steel in his tone.  
'I suppose that we'll have to get you all to England as soon as possible, to train you in our way of Aerial warfare, but first, Lieutenant Dayes is going to attempt to try and harness this Laurence fellow's dragon.' Said Captain Portland.  
'We'll go with you, Captain Laurence was kind enough to allow us to stay with him these past few days, and our dragons, as well the remaining three members of our party are staying there also.' Said Eragon quickly.  
Captain Portland shrugged.  
'Fair enough.' He said.

* * *

The trip back to the cottage was a quiet one.  
_These aviators are rather frosty aren't they?_ Commented Saphira.  
_Aye, they are._ Agreed Eragon.

When they reached the field where Temeraire, Saphira, Thorn and Ornthrond were lazing, Eragon couldn't help but feel a stab of trepidation:  
He could imagine, in graphic detail, what Saphira would do if anyone tried to convince her to abandon him in favour of them.  
And, as Saphira had said, dragons didn't change their minds as easily as humans.  
Along with that, Eragon was also considering Temeraire's youth and lack of ancestral memory.  
If the young dragon didn't like what Lieutenant Dayes said, there was every chance he was going to die a very messy end, even if Saphira or Thorn deigned to save his life.

Eragon spared a glance at Portland's other crewmen who'd accompanied them.  
_We could defeat them easily if they meant to try and force me to accept one of them as a Rider, or tried to steal the egg._ Said Saphira firmly.  
Eragon couldn't help but agree.

Given that everyone in this world they'd met so far had been stupefied by the simplest of spells that he and Murtagh knew, it meant that there would be very few, or,-more likely,-no enemy magicians to deal with.  
His and Murtagh's power had just been magnified drastically.

* * *

Another round of introductions were made, although the aviators held the Alagaësians with an air of disdain; barring Eragon, Murtagh, Gringlok and Arya.  
Shortly afterward, whilst Joed, Gringlok, Angela, Noelfavrel and Solembum sat making awkward conversation with the aviators, and whilst Eragon attended to Saphira and Murtagh attended to Thorn and Ornthrond dozed, snoring loudly, Dayes approached Temeraire, who'd been waiting anxiously all evening for Laurence to return.

Saphira mentally prodded Eragon, and he covertly began going over Saphira's scales, in such a way as he could watch what was happening without seeming like he was taking any interest.  
Across the field, Murtagh was doing the exact same thing, only he was resting in the extra-large gap between spines between Thorn's wings, pretending to be reading a scroll on dragons that he'd had in his saddle bags, but watching intently none-the-less.

* * *

It didn't start they way Eragon had thought it would.

Dayes identified himself to Temeraire, then started a conversation with the young dragon.  
Eventually, the subject turned to Laurence.  
'He has been very kind to me, and I wouldn't be parted with him for all the gold in the world.' Said Temeraire, when Dayes enquired after Temeraire's opinion of his chosen companion.

_And now, if that fellow has a brain in that skull of his, he'll back off, curse his luck and try and get a position in a crew that will see heavy fighting._ Observed Saphira dryly.  
_Oh, just you watch, this is just starting._ Replied Eragon disdainfully.

Dayes gave a regretful sounding sigh.  
'Well, it pains me to tell you this, but Captain Laurence doesn't even _like_ dragons.' Said Dayes, all regret and sympathy. 'He only flew with you out of duty, he'd much prefer to stay with his ship.' He continued.

Temeraire's hurt was so strong that when Eragon felt it in his habitually open conscience, he couldn't help but wince.  
_He's courting death now._ Said Saphira with interest.

Dayes caught sight of the gold-and-pearl chain Laurence had given Temeraire.  
'I see that the good captain has tried to buy your friendship,' he said, bending to examine the chain, that was wrapped around one fore-claw like a ring.  
'If you would take me as your captain, I could get you things so much nicer,' said Dayes, beginning to undo the chain.

Temeraire had obviously heard enough.  
He jerked to his feet, and swatted Dayes away from him, causing him to fly some twenty feet through the air, and he would've been impaled on Saphira's spines if Eragon hadn't caught him with a spell, and lowered him to the ground first.

'I take it I needn't tell you that was the most block-headed stunt I've ever seen someone attempt, including my own long list of them.' Said Eragon dispassionately, examining one of Saphira's scales to check for any dirt beneath, or if it was soon to be shed.  
'You put him up to that, didn't you!' Shouted Dayes angrily.  
'I would never, and I swear upon my honour as a dragon rider I did not.' Replied Eragon calmly, then favoured the man with a pitying look. 'Come on inside, you'll get another chance at a dragon, and probably sooner than you'd think.' Said Eragon, before heading back towards the cottage, not bothering to see if Dayes followed.

* * *

Upon hearing the news, Captain Portland was immediately suspicious of Eragon and Murtagh.  
'I take it that neither of you two had nothing to do with this?' He asked coldly.  
Murtagh shook his head.  
'No, I was with Thorn, what your man was up too was none of my business, no matter how strongly I disapproved.' Said Murtagh evenly.

Portland turned his gaze on Eragon.  
'At most, I watched and listened, I would never interfere with a dragon's choice, unless it was Saphira making it.' Answered Eragon, having the good grace to at least look abashed.  
Portland snorted.  
'And you still say that Saphira would refuse, even if you should die?' Asked Portland.  
Brisingr was at Portland's eye level so fast he didn't have time to blink.  
'Do you want to run that by me again?' Asked Eragon dangerously.  
Portland blinked. 'Forgive me, that was in rather bad taste,' he said.  
Eragon returned Brisingr to it's sheath.  
'Well, as we're going to have to take you all on, I suppose I'll have to tell you the most important ground-rule,' said Portland, changing the subject, 'there is no duelling in the Corps.' He said.

Eragon nodded, he'd read that during the time of the riders, both dragons and riders had never taken up arms against each other, except in practice, and with the exception of the Fall.

'That means: whatever factional fighting, and whatever grudges you people have against each other: they end here, you're all irreplaceable.' He said.  
Eragon seized upon the information, in terms of a bargaining chip, they weren't likely to get any better, asides from the egg.

'Very well, and what of Captain Laurence? What is to become of him in this matter? Would you like one of us to try and convince Temeraire to abandon him, or will you accept Temeraire's decision?' Asked Arya, and Eragon was content to let her handle the negotiating.  
In terms of diplomatic skill, arm-bending, blackmailing, threatening and the other arts of telling-someone-to-go-to-hell-in-such-a-way-they-actually-look-forward-to-the-journey, there was probably quite literally no-one in the world with more experience.  
'I suppose we've got no choice,' said Portland, rubbing the back of his neck.

Eragon felt obliged to speak up.  
'Despite my thoughts on that little stunt, I think it is only right if we give your Lieutenant another shot at a dragon, remember that egg I mentioned?' Asked Eragon.  
'Yes?' Asked Dayes from where he'd been mutely staring at the table, with some of his crewmates also commiserating with him, he now had a tone of pathetic longing and hope in his voice.

Arya glanced sharply at Eragon.  
_I doubt the dragon will take him._ She said.  
_I know, but rumours travel, we don't want enemies, particularly when we don't exactly have a great many allies, at least if we do this, they can't say we didn't give him a _very_ generous chance in compensation._ Replied Eragon, and Arya subsided.

'Arya.' Said Eragon, and wordlessly, Arya took a small pouch from her belt and drew the egg from it.  
Dayes looked at it as if it was an elixir of godhood.  
_And here, it pretty much is._ Said Angela to Eragon.

The other crewmen were examining the egg critically and covetously.  
Arya placed the egg on the table, and then looked at Dayes.  
'Just touch it, that's all you need do, and if it hatches, well, you'll be spending a lot of time with us.' Said Arya reluctantly.

Dayes swallowed, and hesitantly reached out and gently laid a hand on the egg.  
No one moved for a very long moment.  
A minute passed.  
Two minutes.  
Three.

Murtagh shook his head.  
'It doesn't look like that egg is going to hatch for you, Thorn hatched for me almost immediately.' He said.  
Portland sighed regretfully. 'Well, at least you had the good grace to give him the chance, it's more than some would do,' he said, as Dayes regretfully passed the egg back to Arya, and resumed his examination of the table, only now looking even stonier.

Portland sent his messenger off shortly afterward.

* * *

Not half an hour later, Laurence returned, looking very concerned.  
'Has something happened?' He asked. 'Is Temeraire ill?'  
'No,' said Portland shortly, 'he refused to accept the replacement.'  
'Violently, Dayes would've been impaled on Saphira's spikes if I hadn't of caught him with a spell.' Added Eragon.

Abruptly, Dayes stood from the table and took a step towards Laurence.  
'It is not to be borne! An Imperial in the hands of some untrained Navy clodpole-' he cried.

_And after _we_ gave him a chance at a _fei. Observed Arya sourly.  
_I'd say the disappointment is all-round, and he's just directing it at the one thing he can._ Replied Eragon.

Thankfully, his crewmates forced him back into his seat before anything more could be said or done.  
Laurence gripped the hilt of his cutlass.  
'Sir, you must answer,' he said angrily, 'that is more than enough.'  
'Stop that, as I've already told your friends, there is no duelling in the Corps,' Portland said, then turned to one of his men. 'Andrews, for God's sake put him to bed and get some laudanum into him.' The man restraining Dayes left arm nodded, and he and the other three managed to manhandle him out of the room, leaving Laurence, Portland, and the Alagaësians, alone with Fernao standing statuesque in the corner still holding a tray with a port decanter on it.

Laurence wheeled on Portland. 'A gentleman cannot be expected to tolerate such a remark.'  
'An aviator's life is not only his own; he cannot be allowed to risk it so pointlessly,' Portland said flatly. 'There is no duelling in the Corps.' The repeated pronouncement had the weight of law, and Laurence was forced to see the justice in it; his stance relaxed slightly, even if he was still flushed with anger.  
'Then he must apologise, sir, to myself and to the Navy; it was an outrageous remark.'  
'And I suppose you have never made nor listened to equally outrageous remarks made about aviators, or the Corps?'  
Laurence fell silent before the open bitterness in Portland's voice.

Eragon listened in interest, and was surprised at what he observed simply by listening.  
_It seems that the aviators aren't as respected or as held in regard as we would be as riders._ Observed Eragon.  
_But wisdom flies from this man's lips, and you would do very well to heed it._ Said Saphira accusingly putting images of the urgals after Tierm, the Ra'zac in the cathedral of Dras Leona, and the soldiers he'd encountered journeying back from Helgrind into his mind.  
_A fine time to bring that up._ said Eragon huffily, but was snapped out of his mental conversation by Laurence's answer.

'Captain,' said Laurence at last, more quietly than before, 'if such remarks have ever been made in my presence, I may say that I have never been responsible for them myself, and where possible I have spoken against them harshly. I have never willingly heard disparaging words against any division of His Majesty's armed forces; nor will I ever.'  
Portland was in turn silent. 'I accused you unjustly; I apologise. I hope Dayes, too, will make his apologies when he is less distraught; He has just been dealt a double bitter blow: not only did your dragon reject him, but the egg your friends have refused him as well.'  
'I understood from what you said that their was a known risk,' Laurence said. 'He ought not have built his expectations so high; surely he can succeed with a normal hatching.'  
'He accepted the risk,' Portland said. 'He has spent his right to promotion, and been given a very generous second chance, even though it fell through. He will not be permitted another chance unless he wins it under fire; and that is unlikely.'  
'I see; I will be happy to accept an apology.' Said Laurence.  
Portland looked relieved. 'I am glad to hear it,' he said.

'If you don't mind my say so, I think you should go out to Temeraire now, he will have missed you, and he was definitely not pleased with the idea of accepting a replacement.' Said Eragon from where he stood.  
Laurence nodded, and departed the room.  
When footsteps could be heard crossing to the field, Portland dismissed Fernao and turned to the Alagaësians.

'I hope you don't mind me asking, but what do you intend to do with that egg?' Asked Portland, taking a seat at the table.  
'We intend to guard it, as for whether we will give anyone else the opportunity to become shur'tugal, or Dragon Rider, we will just have to wait and see.' Replied Eragon.  
'This egg would be worth practically the entirety of your Aerial Corps and about half your country besides,' said Arya quietly. 'In terms of asking for a trade, you have no hope.' She added.  
Portland nodded. 'I thought as much,' he said. 'Well, there is no point in delaying being off, we shall be leaving tomorrow, but for the sake of convenience, my own dragon, Laetificat, will be coming up to the field, would any of your own be hostile towards her?' He asked.  
'That depends entirely on whether or not your Laetificat will be able to tolerate dragons smaller than her treating her as an equal, and not an object of envy and fascination.' Answered Eragon.  
'And she'd want to have a thick skin for taunts, Ornthrond is disdainful of his dragon-cousins as is, but as for dragons that don't possess the same level of ability as Thorn or Saphira…' Gringlok trailed off. 'I'll try and make him behave himself, but I can't make any promises, he's something of a free spirit, and I can't force him to obey me.'

Portland rubbed his temples for a moment.  
'This is going to be interesting then.' He said quietly.

**Okay, this is my new record holder for longest single chapter at nine pages.**

**I won't apologise for the length, and it seems to me that this is going to have the longest chapters of any of my stories.**

**Now, special mentions: Firstly, to ****Hideout Writer**** for still being my one consistent reviewer.**

**And secondly, to ****Greeny17**** for the favourites add.**

**Again, I like favourite adds, but I much prefer reviews.**

**And to ****Bobbish,**** and everyone who has me on Author Alert, review will you, I know you're reading this!**

**On that note:**

**No One-liners.**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter VII

Departure From Madeira

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

The next morning, Eragon was up early, along with Murtagh, Gringlok and Arya.  
Saphira, Thorn and Ornthrond were soon awake as well, and stood patiently while their riders set about saddling them.

It came as something of a surprise when Laurence came out of the cottage not long after they'd finished.  
'Good morning,' said Eragon calmly, as the man approached.  
'A good morning to you as well, Mr. Bromsson.' Said Laurence warmly.  
'And what brings you out here this morning?' Asked Arya.  
'I thought I might enquire as to how you'll be travelling to England; from what I can see of your dragon-saddles, they're only designed for one rider, and there are seven of you.' He said.

Eragon frowned.  
'Which country was England again? You know we can't read your written word.' Said Eragon pointedly, bringing out the fairth of Laurence's world map.  
Laurence indicated a large island, roughly the size of Vroengard in the top left of the map.  
This is England here.' He said, circling his finger around the island, and a smaller one next to it.

'And where are we now?' Asked Murtagh.  
Laurence placed his finger on a small island above a continent, and beside the eastern edge of another.  
'A thousand miles or more away.' Said Laurence, looking at Temeraire with a look of concern.  
'We might have a problem.' Said Arya grimly.

Eragon nodded in agreement.

He'd travelled nearly twice the distance with Saphira when they'd left Ellesméra for the Burning Plains, and Saphira had flown nearly four times as far too make Orik's coronation before flying back to Ellesméra against a two-day head wind, before heading for Fienster barely two days later.  
But travelling with a passenger over such a distance, particularly when there was a chance they could come under attack from hostile dragons, was a risky proposition to say the least.

'I suppose we'll have to ask Captain Portland if his dragon would mind carrying a few extra passengers.' Said Arya reluctantly.  
Eragon nodded in agreement. 'We're going to have too.' He admitted, then a thought struck him.

'Will, Temeraire's harness, you must end up horribly saddle-sore flying with that harness all that's between you and Temeraire's scales.' Said Eragon.  
Laurence nodded. 'It is uncomfortable, but it's not as if I've really got a choice.' He said.  
'Would you mind waking Temeraire? I might be able to do you a favour for this journey.' Said Eragon, as Saphira settled back down, to allow Eragon to go hunting through his saddle bags.

Laurence presently did so, and Eragon finally found what he was looking for.  
'What is this?' Asked Temeraire curiously, as Eragon unrolled the saddle Brom had first made Saphira.

'A dragon saddle, it isn't nearly as comfortable as Saphira's, or Thorn's, or Ornthrond's but it should be a lot more comfortable than sitting on scales tough enough to turn aside a sword.' Said Eragon.  
Shortly afterward, Temeraire had the new saddle on in conjunction with the harness, which had been rigged to allow the saddle to be put on so as the two did not interfere with one another.

'Of course, these saddles work on the theory that the rider and dragon share the telepathic bond, but I suppose this will be more comfortable, and you'll be able to sit on your calves if you need to give Temeraire any direction.' Mused Eragon aloud. 'Or, alternatively, you can guide him with your knees by applying pressure to one side.' He added as an after thought. 'You won't be able to use your thoughts to help the process, but in conjunction with the reins, I suppose you won't need too.'

'This telepathy sounds like it'd be damn useful while flying.' Observed Laurence.  
Eragon nodded. 'It is, you don't have to shout over the wind, and there's very little chance you'll be misunderstood, and here, there'd only be four or five people in the world capable of eavesdropping.' Said Eragon in reply.  
'Then maybe you could teach me the trick, sir, in exchange for learning our written word?' Offered Laurence, as he checked over the straps of the saddle, as well as the harness's buckles.  
'I'd be delighted, I'm sure,' said Eragon sincerely.

* * *

Fernao signalled breakfast not long afterward, and after rousing Angela, Noelfavrel, Joed and Solembum, they went in for breakfast.  
Whilst they were inside, a small herd of cattle were driven into the feeding pen in the field for Temeraire's, Thorn's, Saphira's and Ornthrond's convenience.  
_I prefer hunting my own food though, catching food out of a pen isn't exactly much of a challenge, it , takes all the achievement out of it._ Saphira said meditatively as she bit into a cow's skull.

Thorn's warning growl was the first indication they had that Laetificat had arrived along with Portland.  
Murtagh and Eragon quickly excused themselves from the table, before going outside.

The first impression Eragon had of Laetificat, aside from her red-and-gold mottled scales, was her sheer bulk: She was near on the same size Glaedr had been.  
Saphira unconcernedly turned her attention to her second cow, after inclining her head in respect to Laetificat.  
Ornthrond was already finished eating, and just glanced incuriously at Laetificat.  
Eragon had a feeling that either the Fanghur was affecting an aura of aloof disdain, or that Gringlok had warned him not to wind the newcomer up ahead of time.

Thorn meanwhile, was crouched defensively between his two kills and Laetificat, black smoke roiling from his nostrils, teeth bared, and crouched as if he meant to spring.  
It was all for show, Eragon knew as well as Murtagh that although Thorn lacked nothing in terms of courage, he was only four months old, now in both body and mind.

'Thorn, don't be a fool, you'll end up damaging yourself more than her if you get into a fight.' Said Murtagh in exasperation, more for Laetificat's, Portland's and his crew's benefit than Thorn's.  
'Just what is your problem, dragonet?' Asked Laetificat, before noticing the two cows Thorn was guarding. 'I wouldn't steal food from a dragonet, if _that's_ all your worried about.' Said Laetificat disdainfully.  
Thorn snorted, unconvinced, but subsided, and proceeded to go back to his meal.

Saphira by now was busily cleaning her talons, and paying no notice to Laetificat whatsoever.

Portland went and began discussing the state of the war with Laurence, leaving Eragon to double check his saddle bags, Glaedr's Eldunarì, and to secrete the dragon egg in his belongings, before making triple sure that it wouldn't come open mid-flight, or fall off.

A loud roar made Eragon jerk around, to see Temeraire over at the feeding pen with Laetificat.  
'No, throw your chest out deeper, like so.' Laetificat stood on her haunches, and demonstrated, the enormous barrel of her red and gold belly expanding as she breathed in.  
Temeraire mimicked the motion; although due to him being nearly a fifth her size, and colouration the of his scales, the effect wasn't as visually dramatic.  
However, this time he managed a much louder roar, sending the cattle running around the feeding pen in a panic.

'Oh, there,' he said pleased.  
'Much better,' Laetificat said, and nudged Temeraire's back approvingly. 'Practice every time you eat; it will help increase your lung capacity.'  
_Taking as deep a breath as you can, and holding it as long as possible has much the same effect. It's much quieter as well. _Said Saphira in irritation, looking accusingly at Laetificat.  
'I've never heard anyone speak with their mouth shut before.' Said Laetificat with interest.  
_It's called 'telepathy', and it is how I speak: My mind to someone else's, and there is no chance I'll be misunderstood in the process._ Replied Saphira. _Now, you wouldn't mind carrying a few extra passengers would you? Mine, Ornthrond's and Thorn's saddles were only made with one Rider in mind, or a passenger if the need was dire, but not for such a long trip. And if you think your answers, I will hear them just as easily as if you spoke them._ Said Saphira, as she examined her talons critically.  
'I don't mind carrying a few more, it's my Captain you'd have to ask,' answered Laetificat with an indifferent shrug.

Saphira nudged Eragon in Captain Portland's direction, and, without complaint, headed over to where he and Laurence were now discussing the route they'd take.

'Closer to two thousand, and no; we'd never risk him so,' Portland said in answer to some question Laurence had asked that Eragon hadn't caught, but he assumed had something to do with the length of the coming journey.  
'There is a transport coming over from Nova Scotia; a couple of dragons joined our division from it three days ago, so we have its position pretty well fixed, and I think it less than a hundred miles away. We will escort you to it; if Temeraire gets tired, Laetificat can support him for long enough to give him a breather.' Continued Portland.

A good deal of this was incomprehensible to Eragon, but it seemed to reassure Laurence on whatever his concern had been.

'Excuse me, Captain Portland, and good morning to you,' said Eragon, attracting the man's attention.  
'And what can I do for you?' Asked Portland, seeming to have lost some of his frostiness of the previous night.  
'As you've probably noticed, our own gear isn't well suited to carrying more than one person over great distance,' said Eragon by way of explanation.  
'You're wondering if I'm willing to let your fellows aboard, aren't you?' Asked Portland, with a trace of amusement.  
Eragon nodded.  
'It's a damned nuisance, sharing a saddle with a passenger, and what with the risk of coming under attack, it'd be safer if only I rode Saphira, and likewise with Murtagh and Thorn, and Gringlok and Ornthrond.'

Portland nodded.  
'Of course, I'll find some spare carabiner belts, so they can clip onto Laet's harness, and they should be fine.' He said.

* * *

At last, now that the preliminary discussions had been had, everyone got ready to leave.

Solembum caused a general stir of fear and incredulity when he turned into his human-form, and caused Captain Portland some embarrassment when the Captain could do nothing but blink stupidly in front of his crew when Solembum made clear he needed a carabiner belt as well.

Eragon, Murtagh, Gringlok and Arya observed with interest as Laetificat was put into light-duty rig.

The whole operation took fifteen minutes, and by the end, Ornthrond and Thorn couldn't contain their mirth at how Laetificat looked.  
_How you can go flying looking like someone pitched a tent wrong on your back, and tied a giant basket under you…_ Thorn told her as he tried to contain his mirth.  
Ornthrond was making no such attempt, and was on his back, gasping for breath, mouth open panting as if he couldn't breath past an obstruction.

_Ignore them._ Said Saphira in disgust. _It mightn't _look_ the smartest, but I can see the wisdom in it; also, Thorn and Ornthrond are males. Add to that that Ornthrond is jealous of dragons, and that Thorn is still immature. It's above our dignity to take any notice.  
_Laetificat looked queerly at Saphira. 'You've got a lot of wise things to say for a three year-old,' commented Laetificat, 'why is that?'  
_My…breed… possesses hereditary memories, it is why I sound and act older than I am; and these memories rarely lead me astray._ Replied Saphira.  
Laetificat snorted. 'Well, we'll see how much they'll help you when they start training you to fight with more than just your Captain on your back.' She said.  
By now, Eragon had told Portland of Saphira's preferred form of communication, so he wasn't all that phased by his dragon's sudden spontaneous talking into the silence.

A quick signal from Portland, and Laetificat settled.  
'Smallest goes aloft first,' Called Portland, when his ground crew, Joed, Arya, Angela, Solembum and Noelfavrel were in Laetificat's belly rigging.

Saphira glanced at Thorn and Ornthrond.  
Ornthrond glanced at Thorn and Murtagh.  
Thorn returned the look disdainfully, then launched himself into the air with a harrumph.  
_I'll be bigger than you in a few months time, Fanghur, and don't you forget it!_ Said Thorn as he gained altitude.

Without a further word, Ornthrond followed, with Gringlok pressing himself low to Ornthrond's neck.  
Saphira followed, and couldn't help but put in a corkscrew, much to Eragon's surprise.  
Temeraire followed shortly afterward, before Laetificat launched herself into the air.

Without having to be told, Saphira glided into a position at the great red-and-gold dragon's right wing, while Temeraire took the left.  
Ornthrond and Thorn closed the gap in the arrowhead as the flight of dragons angled north-east, headed for England.

**Not as short as it could've been, and maybe I was a bit heavy on the miscellaneous, but if you've read **_**Temeraire**_**, I'm sure I don't need to repeat a lot of that.**

**Okay, next Chapter will see Eragon and Co. in England.**

**Special mentions:**

**For favourite adds, I'd like to mention and thank: ****Hideout Writer****, ****xXMadCatXx**** and ****Ilja Mitelia****, thank you all, I'm glad you're enjoying this.**

**For reviewing, I'd like to extend my thanks to ****Hideout Writer****, as per usual.**

**The favourite add also garners you an extra-special mention. Congratulations.**

**Well, you know the drill, you want on the thank-you and mention list, you have to review. Or favourite. Or both. Preferably both.**

**And remember the Golden Rule:**

**No One-liners.**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter VIII

Orders

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

Eragon stood to the side of the room, growing the more irritated the longer he stood.

The cause of his irritation, aside from the self-important manner of Admiral Powys, was that he'd been forced to leave Saphira in a pokey, walled area set aside for the use of the dragons.  
Laurence and Portland had called it a '_covert_'.  
Eragon called it a fool's attempt at cutting off what they couldn't understand.

The other thing eating away at Eragon's patience was also eating away at his strength: A scrying spell, that was allowing a group of English Admirals to discuss the terms of the Alagaësians loaning their Rider, and several of their soldiers to the English Aerial Corps.

So far, the English had accepted that at least two of the Varden's war-leaders were women,- one of whom was dark-skinned,- and that magic was commonplace, and not a superstition that got people hanged.  
They were having a difficult time swallowing that Eragon and Murtagh technically wielded more authority than a king, but had decided not to press the matter.

The Alagaësians, in turn had listened with great interest to a few brief descriptions of the technologies prevalent in modern warfare.

Eragon felt certain that if it hadn't been for Arya pointing out that he couldn't maintain the spell forever they would've been going back and forth all day.

'I believe it would be for the best if your man were to learn our methods of aerial warfare, and not go charging into the middle of a battle with just the training he has received from his former masters, no matter if Saphira were the match of any individual dragon alive.' Said Powys firmly. 'All it would take would be one boarder to take Eragon, and they'd probably end up Bonaparte's, and consequently Galbatorix's prisoners; if they learn to fight alongside a crew, as our aviators do, there'll be less chance of that.'

'Eragon could obliterate any army you care to name in your world with but a single word, surely this is just pointless delaying?' Asked Orrin.  
Powys shook his head. 'By your Rider's own account, Galbatorix is offering Bonaparte alliance, it wouldn't do to risk that he might've also given over some of his men and magicians to Bonaparte's service, not to mention trained the French Aviators in mental combat and magic.' He replied.

'It does make sense.' Admitted Nasuada, 'Eragon, you'll undertake this aviator training, understood?' She asked.  
'Yes my lady, as you wish.' Replied Eragon tightly, the spell was really starting to take it's toll.  
'Trianna has been working on a spell that should allow us to send you supplies: Saphira's armour, top of the list; I shall inform you when she believes we'll be able to perform it.' Added Nasuada, 'dismissed, and do not fail, or Galbatorix will triumph utterly, here _and_ there.'  
Eragon inclined his head and released the spell.

Powys, and the other Aviator Admiral, Bowen leaned back in their seats, before turning once more to Arya, Eragon, Murtagh and Gringlok.  
'A right business it must be to get anything done there.' Commented Admiral Powys, 'You must be worried half the time that you'll be flooded with rabbits and demons.'

Eragon chose to ignore the rather silly attempt to make light of the magic.

'Well, sirs, where shall we be heading for this training?' Asked Murtagh.  
'There's no question as to that,' said Admiral Bowen, 'you're going to Loch Laggan, it's the best place to bring along inexperienced handlers,-not to say that you don't have experience with the beasts,' Admiral Bowen hurried to reassure them.  
'Admiral, you will do myself and Murtagh the favour, of not referring to either Saphira or Thorn as a mere beast again; they mightn't be physically present right now, but they can hear every word you say just as clearly as me; I'd hate to see you killed on an incautious remark.' Stated Eragon coldly.

That the man could so readily see creatures as intelligent as dragons as mere animals did nothing to raise Eragon's respect for the man.  
Thankfully, Powys and Bowen took the statement as it was meant: A cold and undisguised warning.

'As I was saying,' continued Bowen, as if Eragon hadn't spoken, 'Loch Laggan is most definitely the best place for bringing inexperienced Aviators along quickly, the training master is most effective in that regard.'  
'Is this training master of yours heavy-handed, or just a hard man?' Asked Arya curiously.

Powys and Bowen shifted uncomfortably.  
They couldn't even hold a whispered conversation: Eragon and Arya would hear perfectly fine.

'Don't tell anyone outside the Aviators, but it's a dragon who's the training master at Loch Laggan.' Said Bowen in a low voice.  
Eragon frowned in confusion.  
'And why is that so scandalous?' Asked Eragon in confusion, thinking of his own lessons with Glaedr, whilst Saphira stayed behind with Oromis.  
Bowen leaned forward conspiratorially.  
'As you've probably noticed by now, the general populace is _terrified_ of dragons, and many of them don't view dragons as intelligent, let alone as the reverence you give them; they believe the wild old wives tales of the old days: giant, fire-breathing creatures, as likely to eat you as to destroy; these days, its more 'out-of-sight-out-of-mind', if word ever got out that the aviators took orders from the very creatures they're purported to control, we'd never be able to shut up the panicking populace.' He explained.

Eragon nodded his understanding.  
He didn't approve, it was against everything he'd learnt from the elves, and come to expect from his experiences throughout Alagaësia,-even among the dwarves, who were admittedly rather unfriendly towards dragons in general,- but he understood the reasoning behind it.  
Apparently Arya did as well, and let her disapproval show by the minute tightening of her lips.

'Now, Misters Eragon, Murtagh, erm…Gringlok, you're all confirmed in your ranks as Captains of His Majesty's Aerial Corps, although some leniency will be granted you in terms of the chain of command,' said Powys, getting back to the most pressing matter at hand.  
'We intend to also send Captain Laurence to Loch Laggan,-as my colleague said, it is by far the best place for bringing along inexperienced aviators in a hurry,- Lieutenant Gregs will show you the route to take, as well as mark a covert where you can spend the night,' he said.

'Very well, if that be all?' Asked Gringlok, standing from his seat, and dropping about three inches in height.  
The twin-headed war-axe kept both Bowen and Powys from commenting.

'Yes, certainly, you may go.' Said Powys, motioning to the door.  
'And send Laurence through after you, if you'd be so kind.' Called Bowen as they left the room.

* * *

From the Aerial command just outside the city of London, the small group took a carriage back to the covert in London, accompanied by Lieutenant Gregs.

In the week it had taken to reach England, Laurence had made a start at teaching Eragon how to read the English alphabet, but it was slow going, and Eragon didn't trust himself not to misinterpret the map.  
Upon asking the Lieutenant if he would accompany them to Loch Laggan, Gregs hummed and harred for about five minutes, and then relented, reasoning he could always catch a courier flight back to London.  
He didn't seem in the least judgemental of their inability to read the English alphabet, cheerfully pointing out that if the situation was reversed, he wouldn't be able to read a letter of the dwarves runes.

It took a half hour's carriage ride to reach the London covert, and a further two minutes to reach the clearing that Saphira, Thorn, Ornthrond and Temeraire jointly occupied.  
They hadn't bothered unsaddling or unpacking, this was only a short stop.

The rest of the party was rather annoyed to find out that they'd be riding three to a saddle, but with some juggling it was manageable.  
They waited until Laurence returned to the clearing, and had a final word with Admiral Bowden, before taking off once more.

Around sunset, Temeraire slowed, so Laurence might be heard over the wind.  
'If you would like, you could follow Temeraire and I to my family's home in Nottingham-shire instead of the covert!' Shouted Laurence over the wind.  
_In all politeness, I couldn't, and we must be up early, and be away quickly tomorrow to make good time, so thank you, but no._ Replied Eragon mentally.  
He had been teaching Laurence telepathy over the previous five days, but the lessons hadn't progressed far beyond defence, and recognising mental voices.  
Laurence nodded, before angling away westward.

'Where too, Lieutenant?' Asked Eragon over the wind.  
Gregs had been disbelieving when Saphira had first introduced herself, but he'd adapted quite nicely over the previous three hours to telepathic communication.  
'Tell Saphira to angle east about two degrees, I'll tell you when to start descending,' said Gregs professionally.

* * *

They continued on like this for roughly three hours, by which time the sun had set.  
It was chill, but a muttered spell from Eragon dispersed the worst the wind had to offer from himself, Gregs and Noelfavrel, who was the third of them riding Saphira.

All of a sudden, Gregs nudged Eragon, and pointed below to a small keep surrounded by dark grounds, with illuminated clearings, occupied by single dragons and their crews.  
Gregs briefly told Eragon which lantern pattern to relay, and shortly, Gregs, Arya and Joed were sitting on their calves flashing the signal lanterns in the dark in a pattern that Eragon gathered meant _We aren't the enemy, can we land?_

An answering lantern signal wasn't long in coming, and Gregs gave Eragon a thumbs-up.  
'We're good, we can come in and land now,' called Gregs.

Eragon nodded, and immediately, Saphira angled her wings downward, and they began to descend towards a small clearing by the keep.  
It was a descent sized clearing, with soft grass growing underfoot, and large enough for the two dragons and the Fanghur to sleep in comfortably, without getting in each other's way.

The Alagaësians, and Gregs dismounted gladly, groaning with relief.  
'You must be terribly sore the next day after a flight like that.' Commented Gregs as he attempted to get the blood flowing through his legs.  
'No, normally it's just one rider to one dragon, and during the recent battles, Saphira and I have had a bodyguard on the ground, but its almost always just us on the wing.' replied Eragon. 'Hence the saddles only designed for one rider.'

Gregs nodded in understanding.  
'Well, best that you, and whoever has those other two dragons come with me and report to the commander here.' He said.

* * *

In the end, they all went, because the man in charge of the covert, an Admiral Peterson, was busy taking a late dinner.

'Well, if it isn't the band that caused a stir in Madeira last week.' Said Peterson cheerfully, and proffered them all to be seated, before calling servants to serve them all.

Gregs wordlessly passed a sealed dispatch from Admiral Bowen to Peterson.  
Peterson speed-read it, cocked an incredulous eyebrow, but made no comment.

'Hell, that is a probably either the best news I've read all day, or the best damn story I've heard in my lifetime,' said Peterson who seemed sceptical, but suitably impressed. 'And your dragons are all fire breathers as well?' Asked Peterson, looking to Gringlok, assuming him to be the oldest, and thus the one in charge.  
Gringlok gave a bark of laughter.  
'No, just Saphira and Thorn, Ornthrond isn't a dragon, and the closest 'e comes to breathing fire, is a rather creative flair for invective when 'e's wild with something.' Replied Gringlok.  
'But if your beast isn't a dragon, then what is he?' Asked Peterson, genuinely curious.

No one commented on Peterson's referral to Ornthrond as a beast, mainly because compared with Saphira and Thorn, he was.

'Ornthrond is Fanghur, they're related to dragons, but they're found solely in the Beor Mountains of our homeland.'  
Peterson nodded.  
'If I understood Admiral Bowen's missive correctly, at least two of you are magicians, correct?' He asked.

Eragon and Murtagh shrugged noncommittally, and Arya focused on her meal, studiously avoiding the generous slices of roast beef on the side of her plate.  
Peterson took Murtagh's and Eragon's shrugs as modest confirmation.

'Might I be so bold to ask if you might give a demonstration?' He asked curiously.  
'Our magic isn't some cheap conjurers trick, sir, and like everything else in the world, it has rules to it, if you break these rules, you die without exception; also, it costs us the same amount of energy to do a task with magic as it would take to it physically, so no, we won't be providing this meal's entertainment.' Replied Murtagh in a tone that suggested he was insulted by the shallow request.

The meal lapsed into a somewhat stilted silence afterwards, until a rather breathless looking runner entered the room.

'Admiral, we've got a Winchester about to hatch!' Exclaimed the boy in an urgent voice.  
Peterson looked at the boy.  
'How long?' He asked calmly.  
'By the cracks sir, I'd say anywhere between fifteen minutes to two hours.' Replied the runner.  
Peterson swore violently.  
'And not a man we can spare either,' groaned Peterson, rubbing his brow gloomily.

Eragon frowned.  
'You still interested in seeing magic?' Asked Eragon.  
'Why? Can you prevent this egg from hatching?' Answered Peterson, only half joking.  
Eragon shook his head. 'I can't prevent the egg from hatching, but I can make the hatchling inside wait until it comes across someone it wishes to be it's Rider,' Replied Eragon.  
'And what's the catch?' Asked Peterson.  
'Whoever becomes this hatchling's Rider _might _become immortal, along with the hatchling.'  
'_Might_ become immortal?' Exclaimed Peterson, with affected astonishment.  
Eragon nodded by way of answering.  
'I suppose you're wishing it was one of your more dangerous breeds now then?' Asked Murtagh sourly.

Peterson gave Murtagh an equally sour look.  
'We might as well try it, I suppose it can't do any harm.' Said Peterson at last.

Wordlessly, they all rose, and followed Peterson and the runner.  
'I hope you don't mind if we come,' said Angela from beside Peterson.  
'Not at all,' replied Peterson, 'if your man fails to prevent the egg hatching right now, I suppose one of you can try and harness the dragonet.'

**Hmm… Seems a bit awkward to me, but the ultimate judges of that are you, and all the other readers.**

**Okay, mentions and thanks for this chapter:**

**For Favouriting, I would like to thank ****RandomDragonFan,**** both for Favouriting this story, and the Favourite Author add.**

**For Reviewing, I'd like to thank ****Hideout Writer**** and ****RandomDragonFan****.**

**I should have the next chapter up some time in the next week or so, anywhere from later today onward.**

'**Til then,**

**No One-liners.**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter IX

Hatching

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

She'd been thinking about it for a while.

Nothing _ever_ happened.

The most interesting thing she had to do was listen as people discussed a war that no one had really adequately discussed as to why it was being fought in the first place.

So she'd been thinking it might be time to hatch, and find out just what the hell everyone was talking about.

Then, she'd felt something.

It wasn't like when someone would come and feel the shell of her egg to see if she was wanting to hatch, it was more, a reassuring feeling in her stomach, like everything was going to be just fine.

She could almost _see_ it.  
Like the lights she sometimes saw playing across the surface of her eggshell, only this felt like it was much brighter.

Nearby, she heard one of the runners that occasionally came through and wistfully examine the eggs swear and then run off.

She'd decided it was well and truly time to hatch now; this was just _far_ too interesting, and when was something like this going to happen again?

* * *

The egg was brought to a large, warm shed, where Winchesters were usually hatched.  
In this case however, the doors were wide open, so Saphira could watch the proceedings.  
From the top of the door however, had been draped a thick curtain, so the dragonet wouldn't shoot off before anyone could try and entice it to accept a handler.

_Winchesters must grow to be terribly large._ Commented Saphira, upon seeing the egg brought out.  
It was roughly the size of Glaedr's Eldunarí, only perfectly smooth, and it was a woody-brown, instead of the iridescent bronze of Glaedr's scales, or the dusky gold the Eldunarí had faded too after Oromis's death.

Admiral Peterson chuckled heartily, he'd been somewhat bewildered when Saphira had introduced herself, but in the end he accepted it, albeit uneasily.  
'No, Winchesters are one of the smallest dragons in the Corps, they usually run the courier circuits, or do scouting or spying, and very occasionally light combat,' he said, 'indeed, your average full-grown Winchester would be less than a quarter Saphira's size.'

Eragon said nothing, but stepped forward, and laid his bare right hand on the egg, as Saphira snaked her head forward and placed the tip of her snout on it.  
Then Eragon tapped into the magic and began to speak, slowly and deliberately, enunciating every syllable clearly.  
To Eragon's surprise, the egg began to rock, and crack.  
Obviously, there was nothing that could be done.  
Eragon broke off the chant, and stepped back, and Saphira withdrew her head.  
In the steady, warm light provided by the lanterns hanging from the ceiling, the egg began rocking steadily, in preparation to hatch.

'Sorry Admiral, doesn't look like this one wants a word of it.'  
Peterson sighed regretfully, and dropped his head into a hand.  
'You tried, I suppose, and we have the harness, would one of you try and harness the dragonet?' Asked Peterson.  
'Obviously, I can't ask you or Captain Murtagh or Captain Snorrison, but what about the rest of your companions?'

Joed quickly shook his head. 'I'm afraid I'm a little too old and decrepit for this sort of thing.' He said regretfully.  
'I'll do it.' Everyone turned to see Noelfavrel, pale, but looking determined.

'Are you sure? Think about this a second Noelfavrel, it'll mean you'll never be able to lead a normal life, even after the war with Galbatorix is over,' Said Eragon in a serious tone.  
'I have thought about this, Shadeslayer, it's the reason I volunteered for this venture in the first place,' replied Noelfavrel, sounding more sure of himself than he first had.  
Eragon hesitated.  
If he was honest, he was rather frightened of what Birgit would do to him if Noelfavrel was killed, and he'd thought that by keeping the boy with him as one of his crew when he was assigned one would solve the problem.  
_Little one, Noelfavrel knows what he's letting himself in for, he knows more than what you did when you first became my Rider._ Said Saphira.  
Eragon knew Saphira was right, indeed, he could feel Noelfavrel's determination.

'You do realise that if you get injured or killed, your mother is probably going to kill me?' Asked Eragon.  
'Well, I'd better make sure I don't get killed.' Said Noelfavrel with the quirk of a grin, even though he was still as pale as a sheet.

* * *

This was new, she was moving, she could feel as her egg was moved from the heat of the bath house, and taken out into the cold, then once more into the warm, she was testing her egg now, just trying to see how hard it would be to hatch.  
The feeling of reassurance was stronger now, and she could hear a new voice, and then a voice like none she'd ever heard before spoke.

_Winchesters must grow terribly large._ The female voice said.  
The feeling of reassurance gave way to one of reverence.

Then another voice she'd heard a few times, usually laughing heartily, or ordering someone to do something.  
This voice seemed to refute what the female voice had said.

Then she felt something new.

It wasn't reassurance, it was wild, free, and seemed to be of her, and beyond her, a quintessential spirit of what she was, and what others like her were.  
Then she heard a new voice speaking in a language she'd never heard before, and she gave an involuntary squirm as she heard it.  
The feeling was rather queer, like her thoughts were spinning, and that her blood was suddenly burning in her veins.

She squirmed so much, she felt her egg begin to crack.  
It wasn't really unpleasant, but it was very strange, and she didn't like it very much.

Then the feeling of wild freedom faded away, and the strange voice with it's strange language faded away as well.  
Now she began squirming more, testing how hard she had to push to crack the egg.  
She _really_ wanted to hatch now, and find out what all the fuss and bother was about.

She could hear a brief discussion going on, then she felt someone else touch her egg.

Whatever the strange words had done, she could feel beyond the eggshell now.  
She couldn't actually _feel_ beyond it, but she had a sense of the person touching her egg.

She felt he was nervous, but determined, and he seemed like the kind sort to her, and loyal.  
She rather liked him, and now she had all the incentive she needed to hatch.  
She gave an extra vigorous squirm, and pressed out with her wings, and finally felt the egg give.

* * *

Noelfavrel stood back, as the egg suddenly began rocking wildly back and forth, and cracks began appearing over the egg's surface.

Then a wing broke through the shell, and sent fragments of it flying, spattering off the opposite wall.  
The left of the egg quickly went, and a purple and brown dragon hatchling, roughly the size of a large dog tumbled out.

He was briefly aware of Saphira leaning forward to get a better view of the fresh-hatched dragon, before he was distracted by the runner that had told them of the hatching egg pressing an elaborate harness into his hands.

Noelfavrel shook his head.  
'Not just yet.' He whispered.  
Admiral Peterson had given him a quick crash-course in how harnessing was performed in England, and now Noelfavrel was relying on his own judgement.

The little dragon gazed around curiously before stretching it's wings and gazing at them, flicking off fragments of egg that clung to it.

It then began walking around the edge of the shed, paying none of them any mind, until it came to Arya.  
The dragon reared up onto it's hind legs, trying to see her face better, before over-balancing and falling over backwards.  
It picked itself up, before just gazing curiously at Arya.

It quickly lost interest in her, before moving on and gazing at Gringlok, gazing at him with open curiosity.  
Gringlok met the dragon's gaze easily, until the hatchling lost interest.

It stopped when it saw Saphira, and then sidled over and gazed at her in what Noelfavrel would've thought as a dragon's version of awed silence.  
Saphira gazed back with equal interest, before bringing her head forward and sniffing at the hatchling curiously.  
She withdrew her head with a surprised snort when the hatchling stretched out it's neck and nuzzled her snout affectionately.

It walked past Eragon now, and gave Murtagh a wide berth, whether because it smelt Thorn on his clothes, or for some other reason.

It then turned it's attention to Noelfavrel, before walking over, and sitting in front of him, and stared up at him with wide orange slit-pupiled eyes, before cocking it's head, as if considering him.  
Noelfavrel quirked a small, tentative smile, and reached forward tentatively with his right hand, palm up.  
The hatchling's tongue flicked in and out, and it moved it's head in closer, to Noelfavrel's hand.  
He gently placed his hand on the side of the hatchling's neck-

* * *

The first thing she noticed about outside of the egg, was that it wasn't wet, like inside the egg.  
It was also hard.

She took a moment to flick fragments of egg shell off of herself, before spreading her wings out.  
The air felt cool against them, and they felt large.  
Surely they couldn't be _that_ big?  
She spread them out wide, and gazed up at them.

Oh, they _were._

She looked around, and walked over to look at the place she found herself in.

Then she came to a tall being.  
It wasn't like her, no scales, and white colouring, with a black mane.  
Green eyes, really deep green eyes.  
She stood on her back legs to try and see them better, but she over-balanced, and fell over.  
She picked herself up, then just gazed up at the being curiously.  
The being looked back, but didn't say anything.

She looked around, and saw another being.  
This one was much shorter than the first one, and had a red-brown mane obscuring most of it's lower face, as well as it's neck.  
She gazed at it curiously, and it met her gaze with a warning one of it's own.  
This one wasn't very interesting either, and she looked around, and saw something.

It, -_She,_-she could tell that this one was female like her, was large and very brightly coloured.  
She _had_ to be a dragon like her, so she approached cautiously, and gazed up into the other dragon's great blue eye.  
She brought her head in close, and sniffed at her, and she in turn stretched her head forward, and nuzzled the side of the great blue-scaled jaw.  
The other dragon withdrew her head in surprise, and she felt a tingling, that had nothing to do with the cold, or any other feeling running through her.

She walked past the next being, then she smelt a musky scent.  
She instinctively knew this was the scent of a male dragon.  
It came from another being like the others, but this one smelt like a male dragon.  
She skirted around this one, she wasn't going to take chances that he might harm her.

Then she saw another one.  
This one was younger than the others, and seemed rather pale, and not from the cold, or from being pale like the first being.  
This one was interesting.  
She sat, and gazed up at him, and cocked her head, trying to find out why he could be so pale.  
The being smiled slightly, and tentatively raised a hand.  
She smelt it and moved her head to see it better.  
The being gently placed the hand on her neck and-

**This is the third hatching sequence I've ever written, and is by far and away the most involved.**

**What happens next?**

**It's probably going to be slightly different to what you expect.**

**Thank you to ****Hideout Writer**** for the review.**

**See you next time.**

**No One-liners.**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter X

Talking Things Over

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

-a surge of energy hit Noelfavrel and the hatchling, and sent them both sprawling.  
Noelfavrel groaned softly.  
He ached all over, even though he'd only lightly touched the hatchling with his right hand.  
_Did Eragon feel this bad after he first touched Saphira?_ Wondered Noelfavrel, and he felt a slight pressure at the back of his mind.  
It then solidified, and he felt bewildered thoughts coming from the link.  
_This is going to take some getting used to…_ Thought Noelfavrel absently, as he realised the thoughts were coming from the dragon hatchling.

* * *

She couldn't move!  
How had that happened?  
None of the people who came by the bath house had mentioned this!  
She felt a slight pressure in the back of her mind, like the slight pressure of the boy's hand before-  
Wait, that was it! It was the same boy who'd touched her egg!  
They must've been _destined_ to be together, why else would that energy have hit her when he touched her?  
_This is going to take some getting used to…_ Came a thought.  
If it had've been a voice, she would've supposed it was male.  
The boy's? Probably.  
Either way, the voice was right:  
This was going to take some getting used to.  
And to cap matters off, she was hungry.

* * *

Eragon watched as the hatchling and Noelfavrel collapsed.  
Admiral Peterson and the runner gave twin cries of surprise.  
Eragon was rather nonplussed himself:  
He hadn't been able to place the binding-enchantment on the egg, so why were Noelfavrel and the hatchling showing symptoms of being mind-linked?  
Slowly, Noelfavrel felt feeling return to his body, and he stood shakily.  
The dragonet slowly climbed to it's feet now.  
'What just happened?' Asked Noelfavrel, turning to look at Eragon.  
Eragon beckoned Noelfavrel over.  
Noelfavrel came over, with a frown on his face.  
'Let me see your hand,' said Eragon.  
Noelfavrel held out his right hand, palm upward.  
All the while, he watched Eragon's face.  
Eragon cocked an eyebrow in surprise.  
Noelfavrel looked down at his hand, and saw that a diffused oval of skin had darkened to gold-brown.  
'Does this mean…I'm a Rider now?' Asked Noelfavrel, his voice dropping to a whisper by the end.  
Eragon looked the boy in the eyes.  
'Somehow, it doesn't make any sense, because I never completed the binding-spell, but it appears that yes, you are now a Dragon Rider,' replied Eragon levelly.  
A small cough from beside Noelfavrel caused both Eragon and Noelfavrel to look down.  
Sitting beside Noelfavrel was the little Winchester.  
'I'm sorry to interrupt, but could I please have something to eat? I'm hungry.' It-or rather, she-, said.  
A subtle movement from Peterson caught Eragon's attention.  
'_He has to give her a name first, or she'll fly away directly after she's eaten.__'_ He mouthed in a very obvious fashion.  
Eragon turned back to see Noelfavrel talking with the runner.  
The runner nodded once, and dashed off, knocking the curtain aside as he went.  
'There, that boy will go and see about getting you some food, but until then you'll have to wait,' Noelfavrel told the hatchling.  
The hatchling nodded in acceptance.  
'What is your name?' Asked the hatchling afterwards, looking up at Noelfavrel in open interest.  
'Noelfavrel,' he replied, 'so, what's your name then?' he asked in return.  
The hatchling gave a small laugh.  
'I suppose that this is the harnessing that those people in the bath house were always going on about,' she said, 'well, I don't have a name yet, and I suppose that you might as well give me one, and nothing too extravagant, we're going to be stuck together a long time I suppose, from what this man said,' replied the hatchling, before motioning to Eragon with a talon.  
Eragon looked at Admiral Peterson with a quizzical look.  
Peterson shrugged.  
'_I'm just as lost as you are, this isn't usual.'_ He mouthed.

The request took Noelfavrel by surprise, and with a start, he realised he had no clue as to how to name a dragon, but he remembered hearing Joed say to one of Laetificat's ground crew during the journey to England that back in Alagaësia, they were usually named from the ancient language, or picked their own when they were old enough.  
Noelfavrel glanced sideways at Eragon, who just shrugged.  
'You're on your own,' he said quietly.  
Noelfavrel bit his lip and thought.  
Then he remembered an old story Brom had once told, about the Riders.  
'How would you like Galzra?' Asked Noelfavrel, 'she saved the city of Tierm from a pirate attack at the height of the Rider's power,' he added.  
'Hmm…' said the hatchling, considering, 'It certainly sounds a good name,' she admitted.  
'In fact, I quite like it.' she added.  
'My name is Galzra.' She then said.

* * *

As Galzra said this, Eragon saw Admiral Peterson give a huge sigh of relief, and beckoned Eragon over.  
'What the bloody hell was that when they both fell over?' Asked Peterson in a low voice when Eragon was at the Admiral's side.  
'I can't say I have anymore clue than you, but if I had to make a guess, I'd say that when the hatchling nuzzled Saphira, she somehow completed the binding-spell, but don't ask me how, the dragons of Alagaësia are inherently magical, things happen around them that are impossible otherwise.' Explained Eragon as best as he could.  
'Otherwise, it might be magical-backwash from when we were transported here like we were.' Added Eragon as an afterthought.  
'Or it could be both,' said Arya, coming over and joining them.  
'What happens now? Noelfavrel is a member of our party, and he has become the handler of an English dragon.' She added.  
She didn't need to say anything more, the dilemma was self-evident.  
'He's not a handler Arya, that contact resulted in a gedwëy ignasia, Noelfavrel is a rider now.' Corrected Eragon  
'The fact remains that his dragon is British.' Said Peterson grimly.  
'The fact he and that hatchling are bonded as dragon and rider in the fashion of the Riders of our world invalidates that,' replied Arya, 'the odds are, he is now immortal, unless blade or poison takes him, _and_ he will probably be capable of becoming a magician of Eragon's calibre, whether the bond between them will effect that dragon though, is something else entirely, either way, they will be training under Eragon.' Said Arya firmly.  
Peterson grinned crookedly.  
'With arguments like that, you could probably convince Bonaparte to abdicate the throne of France and take up basket-weaving instead.'  
'I doubt that, tyrants aren't known for being rational when it comes to power,' replied Arya.

* * *

The runner returned, carrying a pair of buckets of steaming meat.  
Noelfavrel duly took one, and offered it to Galzra.  
Galzra frowned.  
'Aren't you going to put that harness on me first?' She asked, motioning to the harness that Noelfavrel had left discarded off to one side.  
Noelfavrel glanced at the harness.  
'I don't see why it's necessary just now, here look,' said Noelfavrel, showing Galzra his right palm, and the gold-brown gedwëy ignasia.  
'That mark is the mark of a Dragon Rider of Alagaësia, whether you have the harness on or not, you and I couldn't be any more tightly bound, even if by chains, but it also means we have a duty to protect and serve the people, and right now we can only achieve that by learning what the aviators have to teach, along with what Eragon and Saphira can teach us, instead of flying off,' explained Noelfavrel, 'but if you're that concerned about it, I'll put it on you _after_ you've eaten.' He added, upon seeing Galzra's unsure look.  
_This is a lot different to what I'd been expecting_, thought Galzra.  
_Hey, I'm trying to get used to the whole 'talking dragon' thing as well, this wasn't exactly what the old stories had led me to expect._ Replied Noelfavrel.  
Galzra looked quizzically at Noelfavrel, then her stomach grumbled, and all of a sudden the meat seemed far more tempting.  
Noelfavrel set the bucket of meat in front of the little Winchester, then stood back as she began to eat.  
She ate quickly, but to Noelfavrel's surprise, she ate daintily, avoiding spraying blood and meat everywhere, like he'd seen Temeraire and Laetificat do, not to mention Ornthrond, who despite being an utter guts, often threw more meat around than went down his gullet.

* * *

Murtagh stood impassively, off to one side, and watched the boy, Noelfavrel, as he explained the shur'tugal bond to the hatchling.  
Murtagh felt his lip curl in disgust as he remembered his first few moments with Thorn, watching,-and _feeling,_- as his growth was accelerated 'til he was near-full grown.  
_Galbatorix will pay for that in blood, my friend, do not dwell on it, we are free now, and we have a chance to redeem ourselves in the eyes of the Varden._ Said Thorn, sensing that his Rider was on the verge of one of his black moods.  
_And what about Eragon? And the dwarves? Gringlok tolerates me only because of the situation we're in, as soon as we go back to Alagaësia, Eragon is obliged to take vengeance on me for killing Hrothgar, no matter the fact I was under orders._ Replied Murtagh bitterly.  
_We could always stay here._ Said Thorn in a practical tone.  
Murtagh thought about it, he didn't much like the idea, but it did have it's appeal.  
_Perhaps, my friend, perhaps._ He said at last.

* * *

Finished with her meal, Galzra attempted to lick her chops clean, but couldn't quite get the technique.  
Finally taking pity on her, Noelfavrel quickly grabbed a rag from a bench near the wall, and wiped away the worst of the gore.  
_I could've managed by myself you know,_ said Galzra in an amused tone. _But thank you anyway, s_he added.  
Noelfavrel gave Galzra a small smile, before retrieving the harness.  
It took him a moment to figure out the buckles, and when he attempted to put the harness on backwards, the runner took pity on him and helped him put the harness on Galzra, who sat through the process patiently.  
'Now, if you don't mind, I think I might get some sleep now,' she said.  
Noelfavrel knelt down and carefully picked Galzra up, much to her surprise.  
'If we're heading somewhere else, I'll walk,' she said huffily, before jumping back to the ground and shuffling her wings slightly.

* * *

'Well, I suppose you do have a valid point,' conceded Admiral Peterson, 'the boy is with your group, and I did grant permission for one of you to harness the dragon, and he was never formally inducted into the Corps like Eragon was.' Added Peterson.  
'Before you think of threatening us, even as we speak, the Varden's magicians, and the elves' finest spell-weavers are working on an enchantment that will allow them to send through supplies from our world, all it would take for us to be reinforced would be a few brief words.' Stated Arya.  
'I wasn't even considering it, I was just thinking how very difficult it will be for you to reach Loch Laggan tomorrow, what with your gear already overloaded, and with no place for that dragon to rest properly,' Assured Peterson, not in the least offended or wrong-footed by Arya's threat.  
_He's right, that hatchling will not possess the strength necessary to keep pace with Saphira and Thorn, even if they pace themselves, as they must so as not to leave Ornthrond behind, and she is too large, even now for her to comfortably ride on Saphira's back with us._ Said Arya mentally to Eragon.  
_And having Noelfavrel and the hatchling travelling on the ground is far too slow, so what are we to do?_ Asked Eragon.  
'Admiral,' began Arya, 'you wouldn't be able to spare one of the other dragons here to transport the hatchling and our party would you?' Asked Arya.  
'Naturally, Gringlok, Murtagh and myself will be flying with our respective charges, and I'm not sure what Lieutenant Gregs will do, but we'll deal with that when we come to it.' Added Eragon.  
Peterson considered for a moment.  
'Well…there's a courier heading for Loch Laggan tomorrow…' He said, but he said it hesitantly, eyeing Eragon and Arya nervously.  
'That makes things easy, Noelfavrel and Galzra can go with this courier, along with Angela, Solembum and Joed.' Said Eragon.  
'The thing is…' began Peterson hesitantly, then sighed and caved.  
'This particular aviator, is, to put it nicely, considered scum by basically everyone in the Corps,' said Peterson at last in a low voice, 'the only reason he hasn't been thrown out, is because his family would raise a hue-and-cry that we hardly need,' added Peterson.  
'And this aviator is considered scum because…?' Arya let the question hang.  
'Because of the way he treats his dragon, disgraceful, only ever to be seen with him when they're getting ready to go somewhere, never a kind word to the poor creature, and he is left neglected and to look after himself, and his attitude towards dragons in general is utterly disgraceful,' replied Peterson with some heat.  
'And he was allowed to become an aviator in the first place because…?' Asked Eragon, not even bothering to hide his contempt.  
'His father, and his father before him, were aviators, and when an aviator dies, their children are often assigned to the aviator's dragon, because dragons are more likely to accept another handler if the dragon feels the new handler shares some of their grief,' explained Peterson, 'although, the line of inheritance isn't always a good idea, as it proved in this fellow's case, he was never raised to the life, and when he was put to this dragon, well, the dragon couldn't stand the man, so he was put to a Winchester instead, as a courier; and a less deserving man for such a loyal dragon I have never seen.' Added Peterson, making clear that he held Eragon's view of the man in question.  
'Would he attempt to harm another aviator's dragon?' Asked Arya.  
Peterson shook his head.  
'We don't allow interference with another's dragon, except for the surgeons, and that dragon's crew, and he's got a Navy man's rigid adherence to rules, not to mention a Navy man's formality, I doubt he'd trouble you beyond disdainful remarks,' Said Peterson.  
'That might be all it takes to get him killed,' said Arya coldly, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her sword, 'if not by me, then certainly by Saphira or Thorn.'  
Saphira growled her assent at this from the barn door.  
'I'll ask my Captains tonight, see if any of them are headed that way tomorrow, if no one is, then I'm afraid you're just going to have to put up with him.' Said Peterson.  
'Now, after all this excitement, I'd say you'll be wanting to be off to sleep,' he said, in an altogether different tone, changing the subject.  
'We'll sleep in the clearing tonight, we've had less comfortable campsites, I can assure you, and besides, we intend to leave early, directly after we've breakfasted.' Said Eragon quickly, 'no need to put yourself to too much effort on our account.'

* * *

They returned to the clearing quickly, Admiral Peterson heading for his office, and Eragon saw several heavy-lidded runners heading for other clearings, with their respective barracks.  
As they entered the clearing, Galzra stopped short upon seeing Ornthrond in the lantern light, who in turn groaned in abject annoyance, before asking something plaintively in dwarvish to Gringlok.  
'Ornthrond, grow up, you're a full-grown Fanghur now, not a self-centred hatchling,' scolded Gringlok good-naturedly, before slapping him affectionately on the foreleg, which was all he could reach of his faithful mount.  
Thorn, who'd been drowsing in the cool evening, roused himself, before coming over to the clearing edge, only to stop and cock his head in puzzlement as Galzra backed out of the clearing.  
Eragon could feel the hatchling's instinctive fear, and couldn't help but feel some sympathy, both for the hatchling, and for Noelfavrel, who was feeling the full force of his partner's terror.  
_Do not be afraid, hatchling, Thorn means you no more harm than do I._ Said Saphira soothingly, and Galzra stopped backing away, and tentatively stood by her Rider's side, eyeing Thorn with a wary look.  
Thorn bent his head down, and peered at Galzra with one large, vermillion eye, before giving a satisfied huff, and drawing his head away.  
_I am Thorn, my Rider is Murtagh, what Saphira says is true, hatchling, I would not harm one not even an hour out of the shell._ Said Thorn to Galzra.  
Galzra didn't answer, just nudged Noelfavrel's hand for reassurance.  
Then, from beside Ornthrond came Solembum in his human-form, and Angela, with an expression of curiosity on her face.  
'Well, congratulations young man, a Dragon Rider, well, your mother will undoubtedly be proud, to say the least,' she said brightly.  
Galzra was looking at Solembum with an odd expression, eyeing him curiously.  
A shiver ran around Solembum's form, which blurred, and he reverted to his cat form, which was only slightly smaller than Galzra.  
Galzra recoiled in shock, but merely looked bemused as Solembum began rubbing her chest in the way cats do.  
Joed had already gone back to the clearing, and was sound asleep, in the shadow of an oak tree.  
Saphira coiled herself up, and opened one of her left wing for Eragon, who duly laid himself against Saphira's belly and entered his waking dreams.

As the others variously drifted off to dream, or prepared for sleep, Noelfavrel unrolled his sleeping gear, and crawled in, before moving over slightly, and offering the space to Galzra.  
'Do you mind if I sleep beside that blue dragon?' Asked Galzra in an uncomfortable tone.  
_If it makes you feel more secure around Thorn and Ornthrond, then no, I don't mind, but I'd ask Saphira first._ Answered Noelfavrel.  
Galzra nodded, and nuzzled her Rider, before sidling over to Saphira, who, without comment, shifted her forelegs slightly, and allowed Galzra to curl up between them.  
In a few short moments, they were all asleep.

**Oh dear, that did drag on didn't it? (Play on words not intended)**

**Thank-you mentions for this chapter:**

**For Story alerting: ****mangacrack**** and ****bookwyrm31**

**For Reviewing: ****Hideout Writer**** and ****RandomDragonFan**

**Well, aside from that, the only thing I have to say is, that this mini-arc is finished.**

**On to Loch Laggan!**

'**til next time:**

**No One-liners!**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter XI

Misleading Impressions

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

Eragon awoke at the crack of dawn, along with Arya, and soon they'd roused the group, before meeting a drowsy cadet at the edge of the clearing, who yawned expansively as they came out of the clearing, and lead the way to the feeding grounds, so Ornthrond, Saphira and Thorn could eat their breakfast.  
Galzra was keeping pace with Noelfavrel, and was rewarded for her efforts with a fresh-slaughtered chicken, which she swallowed whole, before managing a second, before pronouncing herself satisfied.  
The cadet roused himself, as three cows were set loose into the feeding-pen, and Saphira, Thorn and Ornthrond took to the wing.  
Ornthrond was the quickest to take his kill, immobilizing it with a mental scream, which caused the cow's brain to haemorrhage, killing it outright, before he landed next to the now-dead cow, and began eating with gusto.  
'The day 'e doesn't make a bloody mess of 'imself so I don't have to give 'im a wipe-down will be the day I die.' Muttered Gringlok darkly, as he watched Ornthrond's mottled hide become more and more gore specked.  
Thorn took his kill by expedient of snatching it from the ground in his forepaws, before breaking the cow's neck with a swift bite, and a flick of his head.  
Saphira dropped on her cow from above, and bit off it's head, a swift, sure kill.  
'Wow,' said the cadet, staring between the two dragons and the Fanghur with an awestruck expression.  
'How do they compare with the other dragons here?' Asked Joed with interest.  
'It wouldn't surprise me if they flew rings around them, sir, I've never seen a middle-weight capable of that sort of turning,' said the cadet in a matter-of-fact voice.  
'Really?' Asked Murtagh with surprise, compared with Saphira, Thorn was like a brick with a note tied to it in terms of combat flying skill:  
Crude, excessively violent, but good at getting the message across.  
The cadet nodded emphatically.  
'Yes, if they can turn that tight, they'd be able to outturn even Obversaria, the flag-dragon at the channel, and it's been said no dragon in her weight class can touch her for manoeuvring,' he said.  
'I'll take that as a compliment,' said Murtagh after a moment trying to figure out the boy's comment.  
'It was definitely a compliment, not maybe, a patriotic one, but it was most definitely a compliment,' said Admiral Peterson, coming towards them from the castle, looking rather tired.  
'What's the word, sir?' Asked Joed eagerly, 'are we to be travelling in one of your dragon's belly netting? Not to complain about riding in a saddle, Eragon, Murtagh, but it is a dreadfully uncomfortable proposition with two people, let alone three.' Assured Joed apologetically.  
'That courier I mentioned must've heard something last night, they headed off an hour or two before dawn, I guess he didn't want anything to do with you; fortunately, I did manage to enlist Captain Sturn, and his Yellow Reaper, Mortarius to carry your party, as well as that dragonet, and Noelfavrel; they're heading that way for training themselves,' answered Peterson, 'ah, here comes the man now,' he added, motioning to a skinny, pale boy of no more than eighteen, with brown hair, and dressed in the bottle-green uniform of an Aviator Captain, with the gold bars prominent on his shoulders.  
''Morning,' said the man cheerily to the company as he approached, 'Captain Richard Sturn, at your service,' he said, parodying a bow from the waist.  
'And a good morning to you as well Captain, I assume that you and your dragon are to be the ones to take Noelfavrel and Galzra, along with the rest of our company along to Loch Laggan?' Asked Eragon.  
'That's right, and I don't believe I caught your name…?' Sturn let the question hang.  
'Eragon, or I suppose 'Captain Bromsson', in your people's mode of speech,' Replied Eragon.  
'Eragon will do I think, and if you don't find it rude of me to ask, which one of those three is your dragon?' Asked Sturn, gesturing to Thorn, Saphira and Ornthrond.  
'Saphira is my dragon,' said Eragon, indicating Saphira, which he felt hardly necessary, considering.  
Sturn whistled appreciatively.  
'She's gorgeous, I've never seen one like her before, what breed is she?' Asked Sturn, with a tone that conveyed amply that he was impressed.  
'Back in our homeland, she and Thorn are 'dragons' pure and simple, Ornthrond is a Fanghur, the distinction being drabber colouring, inability to breath fire, and lower intelligence,' said Eragon, 'however, one of your country's natural philosophers, Sir Edward Howe, has identified Thorn and Saphira as _Shen Lung_, or 'Spirit Dragons' from a Chinese myth.'  
'Well I'll be,' replied Sturn, with affected astonishment, 'I can't wait to see how hard Mortarius' jaw hit's the ground when he sees her.' He added after a moment with a grin.  
'And where would Mortarius be? We mean to be off as soon as we've finished our own breakfast.' Said Murtagh, as he watched Thorn swallow the remains of his kill whole.  
Sturn looked around, then the distinctive, concussive _thud_ of gigantic wings on the air made them all look up.  
A cow had been released from the feeding pen, and was racing away from the three dragons already on the ground.  
'Here he comes,' said Sturn.

From above, a dragon of mottled lemon-and-yellow with white tiger-stripes on his wings and sides, slightly smaller than Saphira, but not by more than four feet, came diving from where it'd been hugging the cloud-layer, and neatly snatched up the cow, before turning in a wide circle, and coming back towards the group, and settling a short way from where Saphira was finishing off her own cow.  
_Another I think,_ said Saphira to Eragon, who signalled the herd masters, who promptly opened the feeding pen, loosing a pair of sheep into the grounds.  
Saphira gave the herd-master a disdainful look.  
_Ornthrond, those two appear to be yours,_ said Saphira, pointing out the two fleeing sheep to the Fanghur, who had by now demolished his kill, and was looking around for a second morsel.  
Ornthrond visibly perked, up, and launched himself skywards, performing a lazy loop, before beginning to harry the sheep out of cover with mental shrieks.  
'Let a cow out, Saphira hates sheep!' Called Eragon too the herd-master, who was looking in bewilderment at Saphira, who was making no attempt to stop Ornthrond taking her kills.  
He nodded sharply, signalled something to an assistant below, then opened the pen again, letting another cow out, which Saphira immediately pounced upon, before dragging her kill back to where she'd been reclining and began to feed again.  
'I've never seen a dragon let another smaller than it steal it's food,' said Sturn.  
'As I just said, Saphira hates sheep; their wool gets stuck between her teeth,' said Eragon, who'd been glancing over Mortarius.  
Aside from being of similar size, Mortarius also had some glaring differences to Saphira: he was leaner than Saphira, and lacked the row of spikes down his back, and his scales, upon comparison with Saphira's appeared softer.  
He also had a different bearing to Saphira, where Saphira held herself with poise, and complete confidence, Mortarius seemed unsure.  
On the other hand, he seemed to be possessed of a burning curiosity, gazing with covert interest at Saphira, as he ate.

Finally done, Saphira rose and came over.  
_Go and eat, little one, we still have far to fly today, no matter that is only a few hours._ Said Saphira, as she took off, and headed back to the clearing, following Thorn's example.  
Sturn looked at Eragon in askance.  
'You just let her fly off? She didn't even say where she was going!' Exclaimed Sturn, looking at Eragon as if to enquire if he was mad.  
'And why not? Saphira can think for herself, and she knows that we shall be leaving in a half-hour or less, depending on how fast breakfast is.' Replied Eragon.  
'You're putting a lot of trust into her not flying off and causing a panic elsewhere,' said Sturn accusingly.  
Eragon gave Sturn an ice-cold look.  
'That may be with your dragons, but I place a lot of value upon Saphira's common sense and advice, and she is no fool; she does not need a minder.' He said.  
'Do you mean to tell me you usually leave her to her own devices?' Asked Sturn, giving Eragon a censorious look.  
'Sturn, if you're suggesting Captain Bromsson neglects Saphira in the same manner as the bastard who was here last night, I'll demote you to groundcrew and send Mortarius off to the breeding grounds so fast you won't know what hit you,' cut in Admiral Peterson before tensions could get any higher.  
'That sounds mighty like what he sounds like,' said Sturn mutinously.  
Peterson looked thunderstruck.  
Before he could open his mouth to reply, Eragon took matters into his own hands, and turned Sturn so he was looking him directly in the face.  
'You can keep your opinions, but I could no more bring myself to harm or neglect Saphira than I could cut out my own heart; do not believe that simply because I do not speak verbally with Saphira that we do not talk, or that she is any less intelligent than any other dragon, also, compared to Murtagh, Noelfavrel and myself, every aviator in your Corps has no bond whatsoever between dragon and rider.' Said Eragon.  
He knew he was being utterly outrageous with the statement, but Sturn's remark had been of such a personal nature, that Eragon felt tempted to cut him down with Brisingr.  
Sturn stiffened in outrage.  
Doubtless a brawl would've erupted there and then if Arya and Angela hadn't stepped in.

The two woman broke Eragon and Captain Sturn apart, Arya giving Eragon a look of disappointment, and Angela marching Captain Sturn backwards with one finger firmly on his chest.  
'Now, you are both in the wrong here, Eragon, Captain Sturn, the both of you will apologise to the other, and forget this incident ever occurred, _is that clear?_' The last part of the statement reached Eragon mentally.  
Eragon took a moment to calm down, before looking at Captain Sturn again.  
'Arya is correct, I did speak too harshly just now, and I cry your pardon for it,' said Eragon striving for a civil tone.  
Captain Sturn gingerly stepped away from Angela's pressing finger, and stepped around her.  
'I sounded a properly arrogant, snob there I suppose,' admitted Captain Sturn, 'and I must apologise for it, I suppose that your methods of handling a dragon differ from ours, and greatly by the sound of it.' He said, sounding abashed.  
Eragon nodded in acquiescence, 'apology accepted.' He said.  
'Now, let's go and see about breakfast, the sooner we get to Loch Laggan, the better,' said Arya, and strode off in the direction of the keep.

'I'll stay with Galzra, just bring me out something when you're done!' Called Noelfavrel after the group as they followed Arya.  
_We will,_ promised Eragon.  
This left Noelfavrel alone with Admiral Peterson and Captain Sturn.  
'What was all that about?' Asked Galzra, looking between the Admiral, her rider, and Captain Sturn.  
'I don't think the Admiral gave Captain Peterson the full story involving us,' said Noelfavrel, sharing the relevant details with Galzra via telepathy, along with a piece of advice along the lines of _'don't think out loud about this, unless the Admiral decides to tell Captain Sturn.'  
_'And what exactly did you leave out last night Admiral?' Asked Sturn coolly, as Mortarius came over, resulting in Galzra subtly placing Captain Sturn between herself and the adolescent Yellow Reaper.  
_You_ did_ tell him about the whole 'telepathy'_ _thing, right?_ Asked Noelfavrel.  
_I didn't think it'd make that much of a difference,_ admitted Peterson. _Looks like I was wrong.  
__Or, you didn't you think he'd believe you, Admiral? _Asked Noelfavrel, doing his best to keep smug amusement from his thoughts.  
_There is that._ Admitted Peterson.  
'Admiral. Tell. Me. What. You. Left. Out.' Said Captain Sturn in a deadly serious tone, and Mortarius leaned forward, curious to know what all the fuss was about, and inadvertently sending Galzra scurrying into Noelfavrel, and knocking him over.  
Peterson sighed, and gave in.  
'Come on, the fewer who know of this, the fewer who can blow this way out of proportion with wild rumours.' He said, motioning for Mortarius and Sturn to follow him.  
'Don't mind me, I'll catch up, I need to have a private word with Galzra,' said Noelfavrel as he picked himself up.

* * *

Galzra shuffled her wings as Mortarius, Sturn and Peterson walked off towards the clearing where they'd slept.  
She had a sense of what Noelfavrel wanted to ask her, and she wasn't well pleased with the idea.  
'Galzra,' said Noelfavrel, kneeling down to the hatchling's level, 'I know you're scared of Thorn and Ornthrond, but I don't know why, they wouldn't hurt you, so why are you so scared of them?' He asked.  
Galzra was silent for a moment, and Noelfavrel could feel that she was scared and confused.  
'I don't know, I think it might be because they're males, but its mainly this feeling I get that they will hurt me if I get in their way,' she said at last in a small voice.  
Noelfavrel put a comforting hand on Galzra's neck.  
'You fear them instinctually.' He said, gently. 'You should listen to your instincts Galzra, but this is one you're going to have to learn to fight, it would be a huge disadvantage in battle if you were to shy away from an enemy dragon simply because they were male, and if you fled, or backed off, like you do around Thorn and Ornthrond, that would reflect badly on the both of us: I'd be accused of cowardice, and what do you think other dragons would say to it?'  
Galzra looked down, shamefacedly, and Noelfavrel could feel her hurt.  
'And what if I do not wish to fight?' Asked Galzra, in a tone that bespoke her hurt.  
Noelfavrel couldn't help but feel pity for Galzra, and, she was less than a day old, he reminded himself, so he decided to let it slide for the time being.  
'I would never ask you to do something I would not do myself, or to do something that would put us in danger without cause; I never sought a life where I had to fight, it just happened that I had no choice,' confided Noelfavrel. 'Now, let's leave this here, you're less than a day old, and I do not think you should worry yet, about battle, or the thoughts of others, plenty of time when you're older for that, however, can you try and tolerate Thorn's and Ornthrond's presence?' Asked Noelfavrel gently.  
Galzra nodded, and looked up into her Rider's eyes.  
'I will try.' She said in a small voice.  
Then together, they headed back towards the clearing where they'd stayed the night.

* * *

When the rest of the group returned from breakfast, Eragon noted, as they entered the clearing, that Mortarius and Captain Sturn were looking at him and Murtagh with a look of half-awe, half-envy.  
It took less than five minutes to repack Saphira's, Thorn's and Ornthrond's saddlebags, a process which Captain Sturn and Mortarius watched with mild interest.  
Mortarius was already in his harness and, after the covert's servants had stowed Captain Sturn's effects, he reared back on his haunches, and gave the harness a vigorous shaking.  
'All lies well,' he said with a note of excitement as he came down on his forelimbs once more.  
'Alright, all aboard,' said Sturn, motioning, and Angela, Joed, Angela and Solembum crawled into Mortarius' belly rigging, empty of other crew though it was.

Captain Sturn had only become a Captain three months previously, and he and Mortarius had been heading for Loch Lagan for training, and were now enlisted in helping ferry the Alagaësians.  
Noelfavrel looked meaningfully at Galzra.  
_Don't squirm, and just keep still, and you won't get hurt._ Promised Noelfavrel, as he clacked the twin carabiners together.  
A feeling of grim acknowledgement was Galzra's response, as Mortarius gently picked her up by the back of her harness and carefully placed her on the small of his back, before doing the same for Noelfavrel, who quickly latched one of his carabiners onto Galzra's harness, and it's twin onto Mortarius'.  
'You're going to need someone to hook on the other side boy, otherwise that dragonet is liable to just slide off,' called Sturn.  
Noelfavrel nodded, and groped around with his mind, until he felt one below, which promptly slammed a mental dagger into his mind, causing him to wince.  
_Arya!_ Shouted Noelfavrel in exasperation.  
_This had better be good, boy, _said Arya dangerously.  
_I need someone else up here to latch onto the other side of Galzra's harness so we don't slide off mid-flight._ Explained Noelfavrel, doing his best to ignore the unearthly aspect of Arya's mindscape.  
_Fine, but you'll need to work on your telepathy, it felt like someone hit me with a brick in the head when you touched my mind just now,_ said Arya with a hint of amusement.  
A few moments later, Arya appeared on Galzra's opposite side, before a dull _clink_, signalled that she'd latched onto Galzra's harness.  
'We're ready now Captain!' Called Noelfavrel.  
Sturn nodded, then waved over to Eragon, who was by now ready to leave on Saphira's saddle, sharing it with Lieutenant Gregs.  
Another few moments, and they were aloft, and headed northward once more.

**This chapter evolved from what I wanted it to, into something else entirely, and I just couldn't stop the flow, so…  
****Ah well, that's just how it goes in this trade.**

**So, thanks for this time around:**

**For the Favourite Author add, I'd like to thank ****Throy567****.**

**For Reviewing, I'd like to thank ****Hideout Writer**** and ****RandomDragonFan****.**

**A special thank you also to ****RandomDragonFan**** for helping with a couple of idea-bouncing discussions.**

**Well, **_**next **_**time it will **_**definitely**_** be on to Loch Laggan.  
****Or cut to an interlude involving the Varden getting on without their rider.**

**Whichever fits.**

'**Til then:**

**No One-liners.**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter XII

Settling in

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

When they reached the covert nearly five hours later, Eragon couldn't help but feel rather underwhelmed: The sky was full of low-hanging, pearl-grey clouds, a feature Eragon was beginning to view as the normal for the country.  
It was quite obviously the middle of winter, judging by the crust of ice and snow around the lake's shore.  
The covert itself stood on the slopes of a mountain.  
It wasn't a terraced set out that Eragon had seen in Bregan Hold or Tarnag, and when compared with those two grand dwarf-holds, the covert might as well have been a hamlet of wattle-and-daub huts.  
The covert consisted of a quadrangle of several large wooden sheds that stood together on a level clearing near the top of the low mountain, the quadrangle being open at the front, and rather alike with half a stable.  
Eragon could also see men working on metal and leather around these buildings.  
_The aviator's ground crews perhaps,_ thought Eragon to himself, before resuming his examination of the covert.  
The main building was also rather underwhelming for a castle, when one compared it to the grand citadel of Tierm, or the castles in Dras Leona, Fienster or Gil'ead.  
Against Tronjheim it didn't even rate the term.  
Just four bare stone towers joined by a thick stone wall framing an enormous courtyard in front of a squat, imposing hall that sank directly into the mountaintop.  
'I don't like to be disparaging Lieutenant, but compared to even the meanest of dwarven outposts, this is bloody basic!' Called Gringlok as Ornthrond swooped closer to Saphira so Gringlok could be heard over the wind.  
'Then the outposts of your people must be grand indeed sir!' Called Gregs back with a good natured grin.  
Saphira and Thorn had slowed drastically at the sight of the courtyard:  
Despite it's size, it was almost completely overrun by dragons:  
Another of the large red-and-gold dragons, not as large as Laetificat, but definitely at least twice as a large as Temeraire sprawled across the flagstones, with two small dragons on it's back that Eragon identified as Winchesters going on Galzra's colouration.  
On the opposite side of the courtyard, lying in a mingled heap were three dragons similar in colouration to Mortarius, so Eragon supposed they must be Yellow Reapers.  
_There are so many, and by what that fat man in the green coat back in London said, this is one of the large coverts, so there must be more dragons here as well…_ Said Saphira, then trailed off, and Eragon became aware, with some surprise of Saphira's apprehension.  
_Why so nervous Saphira? you're more than a match for any there._ Asked Eragon with some surprise.  
_It is not a matter of how well they may be able to fight, but more a matter of how they will react to us. _Replied Saphira.  
This left Eragon truly surprised, that Saphira was feeling nervous as to how she'd be received by other dragons, regardless of the fact they were in another world entirely.  
_And that is the heart of the problem Eragon, in Alagaësia I would be treated by another dragon with a measure of respect, but here…  
__You're completely different from them, and you don't like the idea of being misunderstood?_ Asked Eragon.  
_As distasteful as it is to admit, yes._ Said Saphira reluctantly.  
_We always have each other, and our opinions of each other are all that really matter._ Replied Eragon.  
Saphira hummed in contentment at this, and the hesitance in her flight vanished.

Gregs nudged Eragon, and Eragon relayed the flag-signal for '_permission to land_' to Gringlok and Murtagh, whilst Gregs himself flashed the flags next to Eragon.  
A reply wasn't long in coming.  
'Tell Saphira to land in the courtyard, servants will take your bags into the castle,' said Gregs.  
Eragon nodded in reply, and relayed this to Saphira, before telling the same thing to Gringlok and Murtagh.  
Beside them, Mortarius pulled away, and began to circle in lower to land, whilst Thorn, Saphira and Ornthrond simply glided into the courtyard, back-flapping to disperse their momentum, before touching down with varying degrees of grace.  
_Ah, so that is why they choose to sleep here, instead of finding a more sheltered spot._ Said Saphira, and Eragon soon discovered what she meant when he dropped to the ground:  
The stones were warm, as though heated from below.  
A fact confirmed by Gregs when Eragon asked him.  
'This courtyard is right above the baths, so the heat from them also heats the stones of from below,' explained Gregs.  
'Clever,' admitted Eragon, with a nod.  
A couple of servants had come to meet them, and one of them frowned in confusion.  
'Where is your baggage, sir?' he asked.  
'Oh, sorry,' said Eragon, remembering back on Madeira when Laetificat's crew had stowed the baggage in her belly rigging, whilst he kept his bags behind Saphira's saddle.  
'Just one moment,' said Eragon apologetically, and set about unsaddling Saphira, the process completed moments later.  
_Ah, that's better, it feels good to have that off after so long._ Said Saphira with satisfaction, rolling her shoulders and shaking herself.  
This earned Eragon a curious look from Gregs and the servants, before Eragon returned their attention to his bags, after retrieving the pouch that held the green egg, and the sack which held Glaedr's Eldunarí.  
'No, I'll hang on to these if you don't mind,' said Eragon firmly to the servants, to which they subsided, before directing him to the back of the keep, through narrow, musty, dark corridors, until he came into another ice-strewn valley.

* * *

He was met on the other side by Thorn and Saphira, and he glanced behind him to find Gringlok and Murtagh behind him.  
He hadn't even noticed they'd been behind him.  
_For being used to dragons, they were rather surprised when we decided to come meet this training master with you._ Commented Saphira with some amusement.  
A deep rumbling, that for a dragon passed as an 'ahem', called the group's attention to a large Yellow Reaper perched on an outcrop above them.  
Around the dragon's neck was a broad ring of gold, studded with jade, and aside from that, he had no rider and no harness.  
'I take it that you're the other-worlders?' Said the dragon, gazing over them with interest.  
''At be one way o' puttin' it,' confirmed Gringlok, with a wary glance at the dragon.  
The dragon nodded.  
'I am Celeritas, and it appears you have made excellent time,' he said, before leaping down from his perch, and bending to examine Eragon, Gringlok and Murtagh with one deep green eye.  
Eragon noticed, that unlike Saphira's eye, Celeritas' eye was slit-pupilled like a cats.  
_Yet another difference between the dragons of our world and this one, Temeraire and Galzra also share the trait._ Said Saphira, watching Celeritas, as if he might consider harming Eragon.  
'Well, you're something of a strange situation for me, you're about the same age as most of my usual charges, except for the short hairy one, but you've been handlers for, three years, four months, and twenty years respectively if I remember correctly,' said Celeritas.  
'I'd take the 'short and hairy' remark back if I were you, if you must call me something, my name is Gringlok,' said Gringlok dangerously, fingering the head of his battle-axe.  
Celeritas ignored him, and shifted his attention to Saphira and Thorn.  
'As for you two, I understand that you're fire-breathers?' He asked them.  
_We are, but that is only a small portion of my skills._ Said Saphira.  
Celeritas nodded, seeming pleased.  
'That is excellent to hear-, oh, I don't believe you said what your name was?' Said Celeritas.  
_My name is Saphira.  
__And mine is Thorn, master, and my rider's is Murtagh._ Added Thorn, indicating Murtagh with a talon.  
'Glad to meet you both, but it really is disconcerting, this telepathy of yours, can you speak vocally?' Asked Celeritas.  
Saphira chuckled, then attempted to speak vocally, succeeding only in making a series of unintelligible growls, chirps and clicks.  
_No, I cannot speak vocally, or if I do possess that ability, it will take practice for me to gain any amount of proficiency in it, time better spent learning your methods of aerial combat, or teaching Thorn what my former master taught me._ Said Saphira directly afterward.  
'Well, I suggest you do take the time to practice vocal speech, Saphira, it wouldn't do for you to become isolated from the other dragons here over a matter of different methods of speech,' replied Celeritas, 'as for your training, we will begin tomorrow, and from there I will see what direction your training will take, although I think it likely you will end up formation leaders, the both of you.' Added Celeritas.  
_The one problem with that assumption, is that I have yet to be able to breath fire, master, it will be another five months at least, before my fire is kindled._ Said Thorn.  
'That will not stop you learning aerial manoeuvres, both under me, and under Saphira,' replied Celeritas sternly, before turning to Saphira, 'and do not assume that simply because I see the wisdom in you tutoring Thorn, that you possess the same authority in this covert as I do,' said Celeritas to Saphira warningly.  
Saphira growled low in her throat.  
_I know perfectly well what you meant, master._ Said Saphira in irritation.  
Celeritas nodded once.  
'Oh yes, master, when we stopped in the covert last night, and Noelfavrel was forced to harness a Winchester that hatched unexpectedly, and she has been bound to Noelfavrel after the fashion of the riders of our world, and we were wondering what course their training should take, given that both our respective countries have a party involved,' said Eragon.  
'That is easy enough, they shall have to undergo both the training of our aviators, and the training of your shutugell,' Answered Celeritas, mangling the pronunciation of the ancient language term.  
'Very well, and it is pronounced _'shir-tue-gull'_' said Eragon, enunciating each syllable clearly.  
Celeritas gave a snort of amusement.  
'So, the servant who relayed that dispatch to me _did _mangle the pronunciation; I suspected as much.'  
'Now, as for your training, we will begin tomorrow at dawn, that should give you all a chance to get to know the layout of the covert, and get settled in; now, dismissed, I have a session for a formation in training to run shortly, and they do not need the distraction of you all here to take their minds off their flying, Eragon, Murtagh, Gringlok, I'd like you to get Lieutenant Gregs to show you around, he's probably in the officer's club by now,' said Celeritas, dismissing them with a wave of a forehand.  
Saphira and Thorn took off into the training valley, before flying back towards to the courtyard, while the trio of Alagaësian captains were left to retrace their steps through the corridors.

* * *

It took fifteen minutes, stopping three different servants, and an argument between Gringlok and Murtagh over who'd gotten them lost the second time, before the party found the officer's club.  
When they entered, it was only on reflex that Eragon caught a ball that had just been kicked, sending up a cry of protest.  
'That doesn't count, he isn't on your side!' Shouted a tall, somewhat gangly man of around nineteen, with hair as dark as Murtagh's.  
'Nonsense, of course he is,' came a dismissive reply from a yellow haired young man, scarcely more than a year or two older than Noelfavrel.  
Eragon looked between the two of them, then at the rest in the room, and that several had removed their shirts, for being hot from their game.  
'I wasn't on either side, I just walked through the door,' answered Eragon, 'so I wasn't part of your game, and excuse my interruption, but is Lieutenant Gregs in here?' He asked.  
'Back here!' Called Gregs, standing from a table in the back of the room and beckoning the party over.  
The older of the two game-players examined them as they walked through with a frown on his face, before being called back to the game.

'So, now that we're here, what can I do for you?' Asked Gregs, taking a draught of whatever he was drinking, Eragon couldn't detect the scent of any form of alcohol he knew, so he assumed it was some other form of drink.  
'Celeritas told us to get you to show us around,' answered Eragon.  
A cheer went up, which drew Eragon's attention back to the game momentarily.  
'Sure, just let me finish my drink, and I'll meet you out near Saphira,' said Gregs easily, before dismissing them with a wave.

The group left once more, but Joed quietly excused himself to his room, by the expedient of asking one of the servants directions, which he was quickly provided with.  
'I'll ask if I need directions, but I really need to lay down after so much flying,' he explained apologetically, before setting off to find his room.

* * *

Greg's tour of the castle kept them for roughly an hour, and saw through the kitchens, to the feeding grounds, and the baths, which held a surprise:  
Situated in niches, carved deep in the walls, and behind iron fences, nestled on soft padding were dragon eggs:  
Each and every one of them dwarfed the green egg, and one or two were even close to hatching, but to Eragon's eye, they could've been mistaken for overlarge bird eggs, at least one or two of them anyway.  
'If the elves and Varden choose to prolong an alliance beyond the ousting of Galbatorix, it will undoubtedly hinge around eggs like these,' Observed Murtagh.  
'If that's the case, its likely that their Lordships in the Admiralty will try and bleed you dry, even here, dragon eggs are worth the ransoms of several kings, although, the one you have would probably worth roughly fifty times what it would be worth to you, fire-breathers are _very_ highly prized, and try as we might, we can never seem to get one, or breed the trait into our own lines.' Replied Gregs, 'God, I'd give anything for a chance like that…' he added absently to himself.

* * *

Left with nothing to do after the tour, the group broke up, and went their separate ways:  
Murtagh to see to Thorn.  
Arya to find a tree that had stopped growing to sing a shelter from if possible, and report to Islanzadì.  
Angela and Solembum made for the quarters where they'd been set up; doubtless to add their own personal touches.  
Joed of course, had already retired to his quarters, and by now was probably out like a light.  
Gringlok was with Ornthrond, persevering with trying to get the Fanghur to not stir up trouble with the dragons over his disdainful remarks, to which it appeared Ornthrond was also trying to point out they could take on the whole covert in battle and emerge victorious; the argument was being carried out in dwarvish, which was probably a good thing, considering the colourful invective Ornthrond was using every time he mentioned 'dragons'; likely it would be some time before Gringlok would be able to relax.  
Eragon was with Saphira, taking Celeritas' advice, and coaxing Saphira into trying to practice vocalised speech.

This left Noelfavrel at something of a loss:  
Galzra was hungry again, and he had no idea of where to find the herd-masters, or even if he would be able to get Galzra food before an allotted time.  
'But I'm hungry now,' said Galzra plaintively when Noelfavrel admitted he was at a loss. 'Maybe you can ask that Lieutenant Gregs man, he knows those sorts of things,' suggested Galzra helpfully.  
_Now why didn't _I _think of that?_ Noelfavrel asked himself.  
'Because you were too busy worrying over looking like an idiot,' said Galzra in the same helpful tone.  
'Galzra, if you're going to comment on what's going through my head, you mind doing it telepathically? Otherwise it makes us both look mad,' advised Noelfavrel, smiling despite himself.  
'Oh, okay, but we talk normally otherwise?' She clarified.  
'We can talk either way, this makes us blend in with everyone else, but telepathy is better over distance, or so Eragon says, and its also more private, so if we're in a battle, or we want to discuss something we don't want anyone to know about, we use telepathy, okay?'  
'Okay, now can we go find Lieutenant Gregs and ask him about where I can get some food?' Asked Galzra again, refusing to be dissuaded from her overriding desire to be fed.  
'Sur- hang on, you'd better wait with Saphira and Eragon, and I'll go find the Lieutenant, we'll attract all sorts of gossip otherwise,' said Noelfavrel, with a sudden vision of being teased mercilessly by the other boys around his age he'd seen in the officer's club.  
'No one would _dare_ gossip about you, I won't let them,' Said Galzra boldly, drawing herself up proudly.  
The effect would've been impressive, if she hadn't have been only around the size of Solembum in his cat form.  
Instead, she looked rather cute.  
'Come on Galzra, save the posing for when you're a bit bigger, people mightn't gossip about me with you around, but for now, I think you can get a head-start on your training with Saphira, while I go and find Lieutenant Gregs,' said Noelfavrel with a chuckle, before heading to where Eragon and Saphira sat, Saphira attempting to form the sounds of the common tongue, while Eragon coached her at it.

'I suppose all you can do is keep trying, but I do agree with Celeritas, it might be silly, but it's rather selfish for everyone else to have to adapt for just us.' Said Eragon reasonably to Saphira, after yet another failed attempt at speaking vocally.  
_Enough of this stupidity, and let me in, Noelfavrel and his hatchling are coming._ Said Saphira, tired of the tedious exercise.  
'And what can I do for you Noelfavrel?' Asked Eragon, as the young man walked over, Galzra placidly beside him.  
'I need to find Lieutenant Gregs again, to see about getting Galzra some food, she's hungry again,' replied Noelfavrel, 'and I need someone to watch Galzra to see she doesn't get into any mischief.' He added, giving Galzra a mock stern look.  
'Fair enough, I was thinking I might ask him what to expect in terms of the aviator training after I was done talking with Saphira, and this gives us an opportunity for Saphira to start Galzra's training as well,' replied Eragon, sliding down from the gap between Saphira's spines onto the ground.  
'Um…what can Saphira have to teach me sir? I'm only a day out of the shell,' asked Galzra in confusion.  
Eragon chuckled quietly.  
'That's for Saphira to know, you to find out, and me and Noelfavrel to wonder about,' Eragon told her wryly.

* * *

They left Galzra sitting before Saphira, gazing at Saphira attentively, as Saphira began whatever lesson she'd concocted in the eighteen hours since Galzra had bonded with Noelfavrel.  
When they reached the officer's club again, Eragon cast a meaningful glance at Noelfavrel.  
'A bit more caution this time perhaps,' said Eragon, half-jokingly.  
'Better than a splitting headache Shadeslayer, sir,' said Noelfavrel in way of agreement.

It hit Eragon then, that the differing ways of the riders and the aviators were going to clash:  
Noelfavrel provided a glaring example; in the aviators eyes, he was a Captain now, equal in rank to Eragon, however in the eyes of him, Arya, Murtagh and the elves, Noelfavrel was little more than a stripling village boy, not even begun his training as a rider.  
'No Noelfavrel, while you study under me, you will address me as master, although 'sir' will do fine in company, the same goes for Galzra, and the both of you will extend the same courtesy to Saphira,' said Eragon, already bracing himself for the trials that were ahead.  
'Yes Era-, of course sir,' amended Noelfavrel, looking slightly wrong-footed.

This time when they opened the door to the officer's club, they hung back a second, and since nothing came whizzing past the door with enough force to give a concussion, they entered a second later.  
This time they had no need to ask for the Lieutenant, who was sitting in the corner with a man in a crisply kept Captain's uniform, and looking rather badgered.  
'I will not tolerate your interference into my affairs, _Lieutenant, _regardless of the reasons you've presented as your supposed excuse,' said the man in a tone of stern finality.  
Gregs shrugged, and stood.  
'Whatever, _Captain_, I hope you've got your affairs in order, and you're right, that is _your_ affair, but then again, so is _your_ funeral.' He said coolly, before walking away from the man, with a scowl on his face.  
His face settled into a weary frown a scant second afterward, before he caught sight of Eragon and Noelfavrel.  
'Come for a drink have you?' Asked Gregs genially, leading them to the bar.  
'Actually, no,' replied Eragon, 'I came to ask what this training is going to entail, and Noelfavrel was wondering what to do about getting Galzra something to eat, apparently she's hungry again.'  
'As for the first, I suppose we could discuss it over a drink, for the second, just take Galzra and yourself down to see the herd-master, and he'll sort her out,' Said Gregs, tapping the bar to get the barman's attention.  
'Thanks sir,' said Noelfavrel quickly, before abdicating the room.

Gregs gave a weary sigh, 'I really hope the kid is up to it,' said Gregs tiredly as the barman plonked a pair of mugs down in front of him and Eragon.  
'Don't worry, he is, you don't survive everything that he's been through without being up to a tough life,' assured Eragon.  
'That's not it, I mean taking care of Galzra; dragons, or at least the dragons in our world, require a good deal of management, else they'd end up starting a panic, even if it was by no means their own fault, coupled with that, there's also the questions of training, and the dragons of our world are rather social creatures, I don't know if you leave Saphira to her own devices so often by her wish, or because you don't need to physically be with her to talk, but it is often seen as a sign of disdain for dragons, and neglect, leaving your dragon to fend for themselves among us.' Explained Gregs. 'I just hope the kid gets that a dragon isn't a pet you can care for enthusiastically for a week, then only look after half-heartedly.' He added quietly, then took a draft of his drink.  
'If they weren't telepathically bound, I'd share your concern, but when it comes to the riders of Alagaësia, it is often said that is hard to distinguish between the pair's personalities, Noelfavrel could no sooner harm Galzra, through neglect or deed, than I could harm Saphira.' Said Eragon.  
'And besides, our methods of training are designed so that a rider and dragon learn to cooperate, and work together, share thoughts, skills, information,' Eragon waved his hand vaguely.  
'Basically, so that they fight as two parts of the same whole, instead of two separate entities,' said Eragon, then tried a draft from the mug, before immediately spitting it out.  
'What is this stuff?' Asked Eragon in disgust, it was horribly bitter.  
'Try it with some milk and two sugars, it's called coffee,' said Gregs, before draining his cup.  
'Trust me, it grows on you,' assured Gregs, with a grin at the look on Eragon's face.

* * *

Meanwhile, Murtagh was also attempting to teach Thorn vocalised speech, and having slightly more success than Saphira and Eragon.  
'My…n-ame…is…Th-or-n,' said Thorn, saying it slowly and pronouncing every syllable with tremendous care.  
'Good, now let's try something else,' prompted Murtagh, with a nod of approval.  
'My…ri-d-er…is…Mur-t-agh.' Enunciated Thorn uncertainly.  
'Your good a t this Thorn, you just need to start putting it all together, and you'll have this down,' complimented Murtagh.  
'Thank…you, my...friend.' Said Thorn, still enunciating carefully, but with more fluency than he had fifteen minutes before.  
'What are you doing?' Asked one of the Yellow Reapers, eyeing them curiously.  
'My…rider…is…tea-ching me…to…sp-eek…vo-cal-ly,' said Thorn carefully.  
'You sound very silly to me, and why would you only be learning to speak at your age, when we learn language in the egg?' Asked the Reaper, displaying an unconscious lack of tact.  
_Because I normally speak telepathically, you scrawny, undergrown runtling._ Snapped Thorn angrily.  
'What did you just call me?' Asked the Reaper, coming to his feet.  
_You heard well enough, and if you wish to settle this in combat, then be my guest,_ said Thorn, a threatening growl curling from his jaws, and dark smoke billowing from his nostrils as he settled into a crouch, ready to fight.

'Mortarius!' Shouted Captain Sturn, from where he'd just come out of the castle.  
Mortarius snapped around to look at his captain lowering his great head, shame-faced.  
'What the bloody hell do you mean by this Mortarius, trying to get into a fight like that?' Demanded Sturn, his anger born more from concern for what probably would've happened.  
_Thorn, you couldn't have settled that _without_ making an enemy could you have?_ Asked Murtagh in exasperation.  
_He questioned my intelligence, simply because vocal speech isn't my native mode of communication, why should I have shown him the courtesy of respect?_ Replied Thorn, eyeing Mortarius with a militant gleam in his vermillion eye.  
_Because the odds are very good that we'll be training, and fighting alongside him and Sturn, we want them as friends, not as enemies,_ explained Murtagh wearily.  
Thorn snorted, displeased.  
_I suppose you're right, _he conceded. _But I don't have to like it._ He added darkly.  
_Thorn _don't_ hold a grudge, that's the last thing we need._ Said Murtagh warningly.  
_Very well, as you wish my friend, _I_ shall not hold a grudge, but I do not think Mortarius will be as forgiving._ Promised Thorn.

Sturn turned from a similar discussion and approached Murtagh.  
'I'm so sorry about that, Admiral Peterson told us that you and Eragon had telepathic bonds with your dragons, but I don't think Mortarius grasped the fact that with such an effective alternative to vocal speech, that Thorn and Saphira never would've bothered learning vocal speech,' explained Sturn apologetically.  
Murtagh let the dozen or so cutting remarks that had queued on his tongue melt away.  
'Apology accepted, on my part, but I don't think Thorn will be satisfied unless Mortarius apologizes directly to him, the quarrel is theirs, not ours,' said Murtagh, meeting Sturn's anxious gaze evenly.  
Mortarius looked abashedly at Thorn.  
'Sorry…' he said in a voice as small as could be produced from his massive chest.  
'Apology…accepted,' said Thorn evenly, his vocal speech steadier than it had been mere moments before.  
'My, he's picking vocal speech remarkably quickly, and by our standards, he's old to be learning, we usually start our dragonets out learning flag signals the day they hatch, else wise they have great difficulty learning them later,' Commented Sturn.  
'Such is the…folly…of forgetting the lessons…of your ancestors,' said Thorn, settling himself down once more.  
'What do you mean by that?' Asked Sturn curiously.  
'The dragons of our world possess ancestral-race memories, instinctual knowledge of parts of their history if you will, and from what Eragon and Saphira told us on our way here from Madeira, they normally teach their lore through a type of story-telling, but a type that if a dragon tried to tell you or I the story, we wouldn't be able to understand it, it's a telepathic sort, and apparently they convey impressions and feelings to tell the story; to a dragon, it'd make sense, but to us, it'd be incomprehensible.' Explained Murtagh.  
'So that's why Thorn is acting older than he actually is? Ancestral race memory?' Asked Sturn.  
'That, and we've been through a lot, but that isn't up for discussion,' said Murtagh shortly.  
'Fair enough,' said Sturn easily.

* * *

Arya came back to the castle looking rather disgruntled, but not as hopeless as when she'd left.  
The first thing she saw, was Gringlok, looking extremely harassed, leaving Ornthrond to settle down to sleep, looking rather mulish.  
'Another argument with Ornthrond, Gringlok?' Asked Arya with a touch of amusement.  
Gringlok grunted.  
'I should've expected as much, I suppose, but I thought Ornthrond would have the good sense not to go trying to stir up trouble with the dragons here; I reckoned without the fool's pride and battle-thirst,' said Gringlok, stroking his beard as he fell into step beside Arya.  
'It is to be expected, Ornthrond is a Fanghur that is now in a world dominated by dragons; it would surprise me greatly if he could take that in good grace, and not get a swollen head over being unique,' said Arya.  
She didn't mind the dwarf; he was a down-to-earth sort of person, and only liable to invoke higher powers to blaspheme.  
'Aye, that be the truth Arya, so, what word from home?' Asked Gringlok curiously.  
'Nasuada has spread the word of what has happened, your king has seen the wisdom in not attacking Murtagh, and queen Islanzadì has made it clear that we aren't to let Murtagh slip by us when we return home, aside from that, the elves repulsed Galbatorix when he made his assault for no losses on our part, and the queen has asked me to try and negotiate the purchase of some of these people's eggs,' summarised Arya, 'oh yes, and Nasuada informs me Trianna has developed her spell, but she's going to need our assistance performing it, so we should have supplies come the end of the week,' added Arya.  
'Good, I've dearly missed good mead,' said Gringlok sounding relieved.  
'That is one thing that remains consistent, no matter where we go: dwarven love of mead,' said Arya with amusement, before heading for the castle, with the intention of seeing about getting a meal without a side-dish of meat.  
Gringlok chuckled heartily to himself, before making for the officer's club to try and find a drink.

* * *

Saphira gazed down curiously at Galzra.  
So far, she'd begun teaching the hatchling the history of the Alagaësia, and made the discovery that whatever had bound her and Noelfavrel, had also granted Galzra ancestral-race memory.  
_Maybe when you nuzzled me after you hatched, the contact bestowed the power upon you, it will be interesting to see whether you develop the ability to breath fire._ Said Saphira, in answer to Galzra's question of how she could know about a land she'd never even heard of.  
'Do you really think I'll be able to breath fire?' Asked Galzra excitedly.  
_I will not rule out the possibility, stranger things have been known to happen around the dragons of Alagaësia._ Answered Saphira.  
Privately, Saphira was also assessing Galzra.

The Winchester-hatchling was intensely curious, and although Saphira was reluctant to begin pressing her just yet to get an idea of her physical ability, she also noted that Galzra seemed more comfortable around Saphira than she did by herself, even with Noelfavrel around.  
It struck Saphira that Galzra was looking to her as a mother figure.  
_Oh, damn._ She thought privately to herself.  
She had no time to be caring for eggs or hatchlings of her own, and now, by no choice of her own, she was having to play mother.  
_It means she'll pay more attention to your instruction._ Said Eragon practically, upon feeling Saphira's dismay.  
_Well, that will be useful._ Admitted Saphira.

'Galzra,' said Noelfavrel, coming back out from the castle, 'Thank you for looking after Galzra, Saphira,' said Noelfavrel politely to Saphira.  
_It was no trouble, and indeed, it helps me see how her training will proceed._ Saphira replied.  
Noelfavrel nodded once.  
'Okay Galzra, let's go see about getting you some food,' said Noelfavrel, and stroked the base of her neck as she nuzzled up to him with a look of supreme gratitude in her eyes.  
The pair left moments later, leaving Saphira with nothing more pressing than grooming, a task she had already completed.  
_You still need to practice vocal speech._ Eragon reminded her whilst listening to Gregs explaining the theory behind the aviator's methods of aerial warfare.  
Saphira grunted unenthusiastically, before quietly attempting vocal speech to herself.  
'My…name…is…Sa-phi-ra Br-igh-t-sc-ales,…daugh-ter of Ver-va-da.' Enunciated Saphira quietly.  
'My name is Saphira, daughter of Vervada.' She said again, with more confidence.  
_Well done, you're picking the ability up very quickly._ Said Eragon, impressed.  
Saphira hummed in contentment.

**Best I leave this here, I think.**

**I can't think of a way of bringing Laurence and Temeraire back in **_**this**_** chapter, so if I don't do an interlude, it'll be next chapter.**

**Thank you to ****Mr CM Pepsi**** and ****Dragonman10 ****for the Favourite Author adds.**

**For Favourite Story adds, I'd like to thank ****Dragonman10**** again.**

**Thank you too, ****RandomDragonFan****, ****Hideout Writer****, and ****ZombieChick422**** for Reviewing.**

**Until I post next,**

**No One-liners.**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter XIII

Bad News

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

Nasuada scowled as she looked at the report:  
From throughout her spy network in the empire, reports were flooding in of flocks of dragons, up to five or more strong, heading to the cities of Belatona, Tierm, Dras Leona, Kuasta, and patrolling around Urû'baen.  
The news was surprising, and if it hadn't been for Eragon's report nearly four days previously, she would've doubted the veracity of such claims.  
Now it was the single worst news she had heard all week, including that Eragon and the team sent to steal the last egg had been transported into another world, which only Galbatorix knew how to come back from.  
'Trianna of Du Vrangr Gata to see you m'lady,' called the captain of the current watch of Nighthawks.  
'Let her in,' called Nasuada, throwing down the report from Dras Leona, which noted not only the arrival of a flock of dragons, but also a battalion of soldiers in blue surcoats, with blunt-ended spears as weapons.  
Thanks to the intelligence provided by the meeting with the British in the other world, Nasuada now had hard evidence that Galbatorix had indeed formed a pact with a power from their world.  
'My lady,' said Trianna as she entered the tent.  
'I hope you bear good news Trianna, I've had none but bad from the recent reports,' said Nasuada wearily.  
'We've put together the spell to send through support to Eragon and the others milady, but we're going to require a big reflective surface,' replied Trianna; she looked pale, and hollow-eyed as if she hadn't slept in the four days since Nasuada had ordered her to concoct the spell.  
'It must be a fiendishly complicated spell,' said Nasuada.  
Trianna shook her head.  
'It was, but when we approached Blödhgarm and his spell casters to help us work it, they threw out the spell, and reworked it, it now requires more specific conditions, but it costs less energy, and is a lot less complex than our original version,' she explained.  
'What is it? Roughly translated of course,' asked Nasuada.  
'There are two parts, and they vary depending on the user, but the part I will use for this side is "Power of spirit, power of soul, grant me passage without toll," and the phrase Eragon shall use is: "Power of dragons, power of soul, grant me passage without toll;" it's rather flowery, but it works, given that certain conditions are met.' Answered Trianna.  
'Very good, now, go and get some sleep, you look like you could use it, we shall test your spell tomorrow,' replied Nasuada, 'dismissed.'  
Trianna dipped her head, then left.

* * *

Roran looked at Nasuada with a look that suggested he thought they were doomed.  
'Do you mean to say, that Galbatorix is forcing dragons from the world Eragon is trapped in, to fight for him against us?' Asked Roran, sounding deeply shocked.  
'That appears to be what the reports are suggesting, however, we need confirmation of the existence of these dragons, Galbatorix has fooled us with illusions of colossal size before now, I want you to take a scouting force, and try and find one of these reported formations, you are not to engage them unless you have too; I am also sending one of Blödhgarm's spellcasters with you, just in case things don't go according to plan,' said Nasuada, then added dryly, 'which given your record, impressive though it is, speaks for itself.'  
Roran reddened slightly, although the effect was masked by the command pavilion's colouring.  
Nasuada did have a fair point though:  
Roran's high body count couldn't hide the scars of the whipping post, _or_ quiet the rumours that had made him the stuff of legends among the Varden.  
'As you wish m'lady,' said Roran, 'if the chance arises, do you want us to capture one of these franks to question?' He asked.  
Nasuada drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair.  
'Hmm… risky, but if you can capture one of them, maybe we can force the dragon's rider to fight for us; which would be poetic; I'll grant you leave, but only if there is a _very_ good chance of the scheme working, we don't need you getting yourself killed being a hero.'  
Roran gave a wry grin.  
'I wouldn't dream of it, my lady,' he said.

* * *

Roran and his hand-picked company were arrayed along the edge of a camp, twenty miles from Fienster.  
The bulk of the empire's army, lay little more than a mile north of them.  
The reason for the distance from the clearing was evident:  
Horses didn't like the smell of dragons.  
Roran stroked the side of Snowfire's neck, as the white horse stood placidly grazing, a hundred metres back from the forest edge, which was the boundary of the camp.  
In the camp, on the side nearest the small, nameless creek, _lazed two dragons_.  
Neither was as big as Saphira, but they still looked formidable.  
'By the stars…' murmured a voice.  
It took Roran a moment to recognise it as the voice of the elf Nasuada had them working with, an elf by the name of Rivi; he was the youngest of the twelve spell weavers under Blödhgarm, and the least experienced, but he excelled at bypassing wards, and was a more than capable close-quarters fighter.  
Roran crawled up beside the elf.  
'Okay, so we aren't going to have a chance at capturing them, and I don't fancy our chances against them in an engagement, even with the element of surprise, so we make the fairth, then we head back to the city,' said Roran quietly.  
Rivi nodded, before extricating a clay tablet from a pouch at his waist, and whispering the incantation.  
A moment later, he nodded.  
'Everyone else is pulling back, let's go,' said Rivi, and they quickly and quietly slithered back the way they'd come.

* * *

When they made their report, Roran couldn't help but feel the irony of the situation:

In this simple reconnaissance mission, which had gone _exactly_ according to plan, and had involved no heroics on his part, they came back bearing worse news than even the time that he'd come back as an insubordinate.  
At least then the news also came with the impressive tale of Roan taking out nearly a third of the enemy force by himself.

'This is bad, you may have only seen two of these dragons, but by reports I'm getting from throughout the empire, there are more, and without Eragon, Gringlok, Arya, Saphira and Ornthrond, we cannot even offer a convincing counter,' said Nasuada, rubbing her brow.  
'If I may make a suggestion, my lady?' Asked Roran.  
'Go ahead, I'm willing to consider anything at this stage, barring surrender,' replied Nasuada with a wave of her hand.  
'You could try and ask these British to see if they would lend us a formation of their dragons, we _are_ lending them our rider, after all.' Said Roran.  
Nasuada rested her chin on her knuckles for a moment.  
'It would probably be a tough sell, apparently their own riders are stretched thin against their French opposites, as we are against the empire, but your argument does have justice to it; when I hear from Eragon next, I will see about getting Arya to try and negotiate it,' said Nasuada.  
'You may go,' she added a moment later, and Roran bowed himself out of the tent.

**Well, that was rather painless.**

**Not an action-intensive chapter, but it does set something up.**

**Well, time for thank youse:**

**For Favouriting: ****ZombieChick422**

**For reviewing: ****Hideout Writer****, ****ZombieChick422 ****and ****RandomDragonFan****.**

**A special thankyou also to ****RandomDragonFan ****for continuing with help regarding idea-bouncing.**

**This chapter was relatively quick, mainly because nothing much is happening in Alagaësia at present.**

'**til next time:**

**No One-liners.**


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter XIV

Dinner Table Acquaintances

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

It had been a rather productive two hours for Eragon:  
He'd received a crash-course in the British Aerial Corps' favoured combat tactics, discovered that coffee wasn't such a bad drink after all,- so long as you took Gregs' advice regarding sugar and milk,- and, as an additional bonus, Saphira had mastered vocalised speech on her own terms.  
Eragon and Gregs now sat out by Saphira, talking less consequential topics now, amusing anecdotes, prior experiences with dragons, and their respective homelands.  
Gregs tried to quiz them on their own training, but Eragon's answer was invariably, 'that is a secret that I cannot tell another, besides a student of mine.'  
Saphira nudged Eragon with her foreclaw, and directed Eragon's attention above.  
'I wonder what kept them?' Asked Eragon aloud, as Temeraire and Laurence descended into the courtyard.  
_Noelfavrel, watch Galzra when you come back to the courtyard, Temeraire and Laurence just arrived, and the last thing we need is to be hunting for Galzra for the next six hours._ Warned Eragon.  
Eragon winced involuntarily when he received Noelfavrel's reply; Arya was right: Noelfavrel's mental first contact felt like someone had just cracked him across the back of the head with a club.  
_Yes master,_ came the reply, completely unconscious of the brick-through-a-window reception.  
_That is the first thing you're going to have to teach that boy Eragon, even _I _felt that._ Said Saphira, in an all-serious tone.

'Hello Captain, good to see you and Temeraire managed to find this place,' Said Eragon, coming over to where Laurence was busily unloading Temeraire's improvised belly-rigging.  
'And a good afternoon to you as well, Mr Bromsson, I trust you had a comfortable night?' Enquired Laurence politely.  
'It was eventful, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask for that saddle back, but yes, it was a relatively comfortable night,' confirmed Eragon.  
'Eventful was it? I suppose you'll have to tell me what you mean after I've reported to the training master,' said Laurence.  
'Over lunch perhaps, I've still got to unpack my things, the training master has had Murtagh and I busy teaching Thorn and Saphira to speak vocally,' explained Eragon.  
'They could speak before, why would they need to learn to speak a different way?' Asked Temeraire curiously.  
Before Eragon could explain, Laurence did it for him.  
'Well, my dear, most dragons speak as you or I, with our voices, and it would be unfair to all the other dragons if they had to learn telepathy if they wanted to speak with Saphira and Thorn, and impractical as well, its easier by far for them to learn to speak vocally than everyone else telepathically which as Eragon explained, not everyone is capable of.' Explained Laurence.  
'Oh, well that makes some sense to me, but isn't Thorn's and Saphira's way better?' Asked Temeraire of Eragon.

This left Eragon something of a challenge:  
Comparing vocal speech to the very personal contact of telepathy.  
'It is…,' said Eragon awkwardly, 'but at the same time, it's not something you would do with a stranger unless the need was dire, it can be seen as an invasion of privacy; a person's mind is their last refuge after all, which is why many in Alagaësia who are aware of telepathy learn to block others with the ability out: for their privacy,' explained Eragon after a moment, offering silent thanks to Oromis for the long hours on philosophical debate, and instruction in telepathy.  
'And I might as well tell you now: last night at that covert, a Winchester hatched, and Noelfavrel was the one to harness it, they're also bound as shur'tugal, and the hatchling is rather nervous around male dragons, an instinctual fear we're fairly sure, so please, mind you don't scare her off, odds are we'll never find the hatchling again otherwise,' said Eragon to both Laurence and Temeraire.  
'That is a story you'll definitely have to tell me, however did you convince the admiral there to let the boy harness one of our dragons?' Asked Laurence in astonishment.  
'Later, and you shouldn't keep the training master waiting,' said Eragon, already heading for the castle.  
With a start, Laurence realised Eragon was correct, and immediately dashed off for the training valley, armed with directions from one of the servants.

* * *

Eragon looked out the window of his new room in the castle, down at the courtyard below, and saw Saphira looking up at him.  
_I'll have to see about getting a tent, or maybe ask Arya if she found a suitable tree to grow a shelter from, so we may share quarters as we usually do,_ sent Eragon.  
_I agree little one, the separate quarters arrangement I would guess was only made because Captains and their dragons do not share minds as we do._ Replied Saphira.  
_Until then, we'll just have to go along with it I think._ Added Eragon with obvious reluctance, before he quickly unpacked his few possessions, setting his copy of _Domia abr Wyrda _on a small bookshelf, along with the copy of the poem he'd done for the Agaeti Blödhren, which Oromis had painted, and written in fine calligraphy.  
Eragon's touch lingered on the scroll.  
_I wish you were here master, I am lost in the dark, without a guide…I wish I could ask your advice…  
__Eragon?_ Asked Glaedr in his reverberating mental voice, sounding weary and hopeless to Eragon.  
Eragon quickly deposited the sack that contained Glaedr's eldunarí on his bed, before opening the sack, and laying his bare hand upon the uneven surface.  
_Master?_ Asked Eragon in concern.  
Glaedr was silent for a while, and Eragon felt the great weariness that gripped the old dragon's soul.  
_I was going to ask you to shatter this prison of mine, but it seems you have stumbled upon a great challenge now; you will need my help, I think._ He said at last, in a half-resigned, half-interested voice.  
_I certainly would like your help master, but first, a question: Do you know anything more of this world than I already know?  
__I would have to think on that Eragon, Oromis is weighing heavily on my mind at present, and probably will for some time yet; For now, just leave me to myself, and finish whatever you were up to._ Asked Glaedr, and Eragon gladly did so, placing the old dragon's eldunarì in the corner near the window.  
The few other possessions Eragon had in his saddle bags quickly found homes around the rather austere room.  
_Go and eat Eragon, we shall need our strength tomorrow._ Advised Saphira.

* * *

And as usual, Eragon could find nothing to doubt in her advice.  
He descended down to the ground floor of the keep, before entering the kitchens.  
After enquiring about a meal that didn't include meat, the servant raised an eyebrow.  
'You're the second one today to enquire about that sir, you wouldn't be one of them foreigners like that goddess that came by earlier would you?' Asked the servant with interest.  
'I am,' said Eragon with an involuntary smile at hearing Arya described as such, 'why do you ask?'  
The servant shrugged, 'oh, no reason, it's just we don't get too many foreigners up here at Loch Laggan, and even fewer dragons from other countries, I just thought I might ask which of them was yours,' explained the servant.  
Eragon regarded the servant with a bemused gaze.  
'You'll know Saphira when you see her,' promised Eragon, thinking of how every other dragon barring Thorn at the covert seemed to always have their harness on.  
'If you say so sir,' said the servant, before bustling off into the kitchen and returning shortly thereafter with a plate piled high with peas, carrots, and mashed potato.  
'Don't know how you don't starve, if you only usually eat vegetables,' said the servant with a shake of his head.  
'I question that sometimes myself,' replied Eragon, with a slight smile.

He took his meal to the far corner of the table and applied himself to his meal with a will.  
It was very well cooked, and Eragon soon found himself eating slower, savouring the flavour.  
'Well lad, we're in it now,' said Gringlok, taking a place opposite Eragon.  
'We're 'ere to learn to dance to the tune of these British, while at 'ome they're facing the Black King's army without us, and 'im probably already with 'alf the dragons under these 'ere French under 'is thrall,' he continued moodily.  
'That just means our learning these ways of war is the more urgent, if we can help crush the French here, we will not have to worry about Galbatorix augmenting his own army with them,' replied Eragon firmly.  
Gringlok grunted unenthusiastically.  
'The odds are then, you'll do it without me then, I wouldn't put it past Ornthrond to get 'imself killed with an incautious remark, and me along with 'im.' Said the dwarf, spearing a slice of roast beef with his knife before ripping a chunk off with his teeth.  
Eragon shook his head.  
'You're just going to have to put your foot down with him Gringlok, remind him that you're the one that says when and who you fight, not him,' advised Eragon.  
'Aye, and what if that doesn't go over too well with him, eh? Fanghur have nasty tempers, and it wouldn't be the first time one of mine clan were forced to take an axe to one we've raised for war,' said Gringlok, fingering the head of his axe looking thoughtful.  
'You're just going to have to run that risk or, alternatively, I'll ask Saphira to humble him,' replied Eragon.  
Gringlok nodded, 'I hadn't thought of that lad, but it would work,' said the dwarf, before returning to his meal.  
They were left to eat in quiet for another few minutes, before Gringlok stood and headed out to see to Ornthrond.

He wasn't left alone for long however, as a group of aviators, came and took places at the table.  
To a man, they looked windswept, and had the adrenalin slurred speech of people who'd just finished at a stint of flying.  
They initially left Eragon to his food, discussing their recent flight amongst themselves.  
But, as was inevitable, he ended up in a discussion.

'You mind passing the salt there?' Asked one of the aviators.  
He was a man of around forty, with short cropped dark hair just beginning to show silver, a nose with a distinctive crook to the left, evidence of being broken in a fight years earlier, and a coarse crop of stubble.  
Eragon wordlessly slid the salt cellar across the table top to the man.  
'Thank you; say, you wouldn't be one of them foreigners that arrived today would you?' Asked the man curiously.  
Eragon gave the man a sardonic smile.  
'Only thing that moves faster around here than a dragon in flight appears to be gossip, yes I am one of your 'foreigners', Eragon Bromsson is my name,' said Eragon, before offering his hand.  
'Captain Sutton, on Messoria, I expect you've got one of the two fire-breathers then?' Asked Sutton taking the proffered hand and shaking warmly.  
'Yes, Saphira can breath fire, but she's also an incredibly skilled flyer, and it doesn't pay to be enemy infantry when she's on the opposite side,' answered Eragon.  
'Your Saphira sounds as if she could destroy Bonaparte's army in a single pass,' commented another of the captains dryly, a man with sharp green eyes, windswept brown hair, and hollow, ruddy cheeks.  
'And who might you be?' Asked Eragon.  
'Captain Micah Warren, on Nitidus,' he replied easily.  
'I wouldn't go so far as to say _that_, not when knowing Galbatorix has offered Bonaparte alliance, meaning that he's probably got some of Galbatorix's magicians seeded through his army to deal with that sort of attack, but we can certainly hold our own,' said Eragon in answer to Warren's original question.  
This met with quizzical looks from all assembled.  
'Rïsa,' said Eragon calmly, causing several plates to levitate into the air, and hover in front of the aviators, who stared at the plates with eyes nearly as wide as.  
Eragon lowered the plates and terminated the spell.  
'Okay, so you weren't bullshitting us about the magicians part,' said Sutton, 'but what the hell do you mean by the rest of it?'  
Eragon's explanation was met with scepticism, and was, by the necessity of having to explain practically the entirety of everything in Alagaësia that differed from the aviator's world due to interested questions, a lengthy narrative.

By the end of it, his audience believed him.  
'Christ, you can't make that sort of thing up, and I'm sure I've never heard of a dragon possessing magic powers, much less half of everything else you just said,' said Warren, looking somewhere between impressed and bewildered.  
'It sounds like you'll have a hard time adjusting to our notions of combat then,' commented another of the captains; he had overlong black hair, pale skin, and a distracted air about himself.  
'Oh? And why would that be?' Asked Eragon, interested despite himself.  
'You fight at the forefront of a battle, aviator captains are supposed to stay clear of the fighting, lest they be captured, and their dragon along with them,' explained the man.  
Eragon grimaced, the idea stank of cowardice to him. 'You're right, that _isn't_ something I'm going to easily adapt to,' said Eragon with distaste, then stopped himself cold.  
_Do I thirst for combat that much I'd ignore a tenant of war designed to spare Saphira my being taken prisoner easily?_ Eragon asked himself with a feeling of distaste.  
'Hey, you still with us?' Asked Warren.  
'Hm? Oh, just wool gathering, sorry,' said Eragon apologetically.  
It was at this point that Murtagh strode in, and made directly over to where Eragon sat.  
'Eragon, there's been a development, apparently Nasuada wants a word with you,' he said blithely, before striding back out again, not waiting for a reply.  
Eragon sighed to himself.  
'What was his problem?' Asked Sutton, eyeing Murtagh's back suspiciously.  
'Murtagh isn't really the most open of types, and I'm sorry, but this is probably urgent,' said Eragon, already standing.  
'Suit yourself, probably be seeing more of you, Celeritas doesn't believe in going easy,' said Sutton, before returning to his meal.  
Eragon abdicated the table, leaving the group of captains to go back to their meals.

* * *

Eragon met Arya, Angela, Solembum, Noelfavrel and Murtagh, along with Saphira and Thorn just outside the covert wall, along with Nasuada's image in a mirror that Arya had repurposed for scrying.  
'My lady,' said Eragon when he saw Nasuada.  
'Sorry to bother you so soon again Eragon, but there has been a rather worrying development,' said Nasuada. There was a grim look about her mouth that instantly, Eragon didn't like.  
'Just this hour past, I have received confirmation of reports from across the empire, of formations of dragons moving to reinforce the cities, and Galbatorix's army,' said Nasuada grimly.  
Nasuada's revelation was met with stunned silence.

'The Black King must have made alliance with the French emperor after all the effort he went too to impress him,' observed Murtagh.  
'So it seems; we were hard pressed before, but now I don't think we can win unless we can come up with a formation of our own in answer,' said Nasuada, now looking extremely grim.  
'My lady, I shall raise the issue with the English Admiralty as soon as I may, but for now, we should leave Eragon to the aviator training,' advised Arya.  
'Agreed, but do so with all speed, Galbatorix could choose to press his advantage at any time, and we would be near helpless to offer defence, do whatever you must to plug this gap in our defences.' Ordered Nasuada. 'On a better note, Trianna informs me that Du Vrangr Gata and Blödhgarm's spellcasters have devised that spell we discussed, however, it will require a large reflective surface to work,' continued Nasuada in a lighter tone.  
'That won't be a problem,' said Eragon, thinking of the lake.  
'Very well, asides from Saphira's armour, is there anything else you need?' Asked Nasuada.  
'Has Arya told you of Noelfavrel becoming a rider?' Asked Eragon.  
Nasuada nodded, 'Queen Islanzadì informed me not an hour ago, I have informed Birgit, and she has a request to make of you,' she said with a small smile.  
'What is this request?' Asked Eragon.  
'She said, and this is word for word: "Look after my son Shadeslayer, and make sure he doesn't get killed."'  
Noelfavrel gave Eragon a knowing look.  
Eragon gave a small wry smile in reply.  
'Has the Queen deigned to send any of my former master's scrolls?' Asked Eragon.  
Nasuada nodded, 'indeed, a great many; they've been crated up and placed under guard, so as any information therein doesn't become known to the Black Hand,' replied Nasuada.  
'Also, I believe that it would be best if I let Joed return to you, he did well, guiding us to Galbatorix's treasury, but I do not think he is really up to the sort of work that our current errand will require,' Said Eragon.  
'I doubt that that will cause a fuss, and besides, we may need to find a way to covertly quit the city, I shall allow that,' said Nasuada nodding.

The matter kept going for a while, and a list was soon accumulated of items necessary and useful, both magical and mundane, until Arya informed them she was beginning to flag, by which time it was growing late, and Saphira and Thorn had settled down for the night.  
'Tomorrow then, I shall have these supplies gathered by then, and we will await your signal,' said Nasuada, before Arya terminated the spell.

**Okay, that's chapter fourteen, and I hope you all enjoy it.**

**Although, it seems a bit shaky to me.**

**Ah well.**

**Thank you to ****Hideout Writer****, ****RandomDragonFan****, ****Dragonman10**** and ****ZombieChick422**** for reviewing.**

'**til next time:**

**No One-liners.**


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter XV

Training

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

Eragon rose before dawn, and quietly made his way down into the courtyard.  
He was met by Saphira, Arya, and to his surprise, Noelfavrel, Galzra and Joed.  
'Galzra woke me, when Saphira woke up,' explained Noelfavrel, then yawned expansively.  
Joed smiled ruefully, 'when Arya woke me after that meeting you had with Nasuada, I wasn't very well pleased, but I suppose going back to the Varden, and back to Helen is worth losing a bit of sleep,' he said pragmatically.  
Saphira looked around to the west, and Eragon heard the sound of air rushing around great wings, and in the light of the pre-dawn stars, Eragon saw a flash of gold, and pale jade.  
'Celeritas, what brings you here so early?' Asked Arya curiously.  
'The missive I received spoke that you intended to bring armour and supplies from your world, I thought I might see this magic for myself, I am old, but I do not think I am too old to see something new,' he answered her.  
'Meet us down by the lake then,' said Arya, as she clambered up onto Saphira's back behind Eragon.  
'Do you mind carrying myself, Noelfavrel and Galzra, sir?' Asked Joed hesitantly.  
Celeritas snorted in amusement.  
'Certainly,' said Celeritas, setting his forepaw down for Joed to step into.  
To Joed's credit, he only eyed Celeritas' talons with a wary look as he stepped into the dragon's forehand.  
Noelfavrel quickly followed suit, and Galzra, with saucer-wide eyes, stood stone still as Celeritas gently picked her up in his mouth.  
Without another moment passing, Saphira fanned her wings and leapt into the air, with Celeritas only a moment behind.

* * *

They landed at the edge of the lake moments afterward, and Eragon and Arya immediately began preparing for the created a broad sheet of water, and froze it mirror smooth; crucially, it reflected the stars , she invoked the communication variant of scrying, causing the ice-sheet to go black momentarily, before showing an image of a courtyard in Fienster, with two wagons loaded down with Saphira's armour, along with an assortment of other stood opposite them in the image, along with Nasuada, the current watch of the Nighthawks a little further back, as well as Helen, standing off to one side.

* * *

In Fienster, Trianna cast a sideways glance at Njarl, a slight man with a whipcord physique, who was holding the communication scrying spell on the ice-sheet-mirror they were using, before gazing through to the other side.  
Eragon stood opposite her, gazing through at them as she was at him.  
She could see in the starlight Joed, standing near Saphira, along with Noelfavrel, and a small purple and brown dragon, that looked to Trianna to be rather cute.  
Slightly away from them was another dragon, it was slightly larger than Saphira, mottled yellow with white markings, with a broad gold torque studded with jade around it's neck.  
Trianna nodded once to Njarl, and then began to speak in the ancient language.  
'Power of spirit, power of soul, grant me passage without toll,' she intoned, enunciating every syllable clearly, so as to avoid a possibly fatal voice mingled with Eragon's on the other end of the link, and it formed a not-unpleasant harmony, however brief.

* * *

What both parties saw was this:

A ripple spread across the two sheets of ice, and light spilled through into the starlit pre-dawn, while the pervading cold invaded the late afternoon warmth of Alagaësia's autumn.

An observer, standing in both worlds at once, on the dimensional boundary would've seen a razor-edge-thin line of darkness slide away, as if a sliding door had been opened.

* * *

Eragon felt a very subtle drop in his strength, and that was it, the spell had cost him little more energy than if he'd opened the door to the room he'd been given at the keep_.  
__Imagine, what an army using this sort of spell could accomplish…_ Said Saphira, with a sense of gave it a brief second's thought._They'd be unstoppable: if they wished to withdraw, all they'd need do is open a portal, withdraw back through, close it, and they'd be safe, and paradoxically, what good would fortifications and watchmen be, when you can strike at the foe's heart with such a spell?_ He mused.

Meanwhile, Joed had approached the ice-mirror, and hesitantly put his hand upon it.  
Instead of his hand coming in contact with a solid surface, it was if the surface had never been there.  
Joed boldly stepped through, into the late afternoon of Alagaësia.  
No one moved for a moment that lasted an eternity.  
Eragon looked at Arya.  
She shook her head ever-so-slightly.  
Her strength hadn't been affected by the spell.  
Nor had Eragon's, and Joed hadn't withered to dust or died by some other supernatural means.  
The spell was a success.

Without a word, Saphira stepped through the ice-mirror and took up a thick chain attached to the front of one of the wagons, and dragged the wagon back through the portal.  
Still no side effects.  
'Might I…?' Asked Celeritas hesitantly, approaching the ice-mirror.  
'Of course, none of us would presume to tell a dragon what he may or may not do,' said Nasuada solicitously from beside Trianna.  
Celeritas ducked his head through the portal, and cautiously stepped through.  
He cast a curious gaze around the square, noting further down one street, a shop-front that had been knocked in, presumably by a dragon's tail.  
Not wanting to appear as if he was staring, he quickly took up the chain on the second wagon, and backed back through the portal, dragging the wagon with him.  
'May the sun be at your backs,' said Nasuada in farewell.  
Eragon nodded once in silent acknowledgement, and terminated both spells.  
The ice crackled back across the portal, and the image of Fienster faded away, leaving the party staring at a thin sheet of ice, frozen in a wall once more.  
Arya quickly unfroze the ice, and let the resultant water fall back into the lake setting off a small chain of ripples.  
'What did you think?' Asked Eragon of Celeritas.  
'Of the city, or of your leader?' Countered Celeritas.  
'Before you get all misty-eyed over Fienster's charms, or lack-there-of, how about we get these carts up to the covert?' Suggested Saphira, already grasping the frame of the first wagon in her forepaws.

* * *

The flight back was marginally longer, and landing was a near nightmare, trying to lower two loaded-to-bear carts into the quadrangle of sheds without making too much noise.  
Once they'd lowered the carts, Saphira smoothly landed in front of them, as if she did such delicate manoeuvres all the time.  
Celeritas was forced, by his lack of hovering ability, to circle in to land.  
'I will see you all in a few hours time, for now, I may be able to gain another hours sleep, I bid you a good morning,' he said, before he took off once more, and quickly vanished in the shadows of the surrounding peaks.  
'Well,' said Noelfavrel, stretching his arms wide with a cavernous yawn, 'I'll see you in-'  
'I'm hungry,' said Galzra at that moment, putting paid to Noelfavrel's plan.  
'Come on then, but don't be surprised if the herd-master isn't awake yet,' warned Noelfavrel resignedly.

It took them the best part of the remaining predawn to outfit Saphira in her dragon armour, a process that would've taken far longer, if Arya hadn't have stayed to help.  
But, as the sun's first light peaked over the eastern horizon, Eragon lowered the moulded helm onto Saphira's head, the burnished steel covering from just in front of the base of her skull, to just above her nostrils.  
_You two should go and see about breakfast, call the servants to take our things to a store room, it is more important for you to eat well for the coming trials than to worry about supplies that can't be touched by any but you._ Said Saphira to Eragon.  
Arya had already gone, having a letter to send to the Admiralty before she could see to gaining the Varden the assistance of a formation.  
Eragon rested a hand on Saphira's side for a moment, before heading for the keep.

* * *

Despite the early hour, the kitchen was a hive of activity, and a few people were already in the adjoining dining the head of a table was a thickset, florid-faced man, steadily eating through a full plate of bacon, eggs, and black pudding.  
'Good morning, sir, and what might I get you, tea? Coffee? Something to eat?' Asked a servant, holding two pots of liquid, who had materialised at Eragon's elbow.  
'Tea, and a plate of eggs, but no meat if you please,' replied servant nodded, and Eragon took a seat at the table, near the man at the table head.  
'Morning,' said the man, after taking a draft from a cup in front of him.  
'Good morning to you as well,' replied Eragon, as another servant placed a plate of eggs in front of him, and the first servant brought the tea.  
'You Laurence?' Asked the man, eyeing Eragon sideways.  
'No, I'm Eragon, I don't think he's up yet,' replied Eragon got the feeling that the man wasn't pleased with something, evidently Laurence had unconsciously been making waves.  
'The name's Berkley, and I 'spose you're one of them foreigner-wizards with one of them fire-breathers?' Asked Berkley.  
'You have no idea how sick I'm getting of being asked that,' said Eragon tiredly, before taking a draft of tea.  
'No need to get waspish with me, just wondering,' said Berkley defensively.  
'So, who do you serve with?' Asked Eragon curiously.  
'Sorry?' Asked Berkley, turning back to Eragon.  
'Which dragon do you serve with?' Clarified Eragon.  
'I'm captain on Maximus, he's the Regal Copper you probably saw when you flew in yesterday,' said Berkley with a touch of pride.  
'The big red and orange one?' Asked Eragon.  
'That's the colouring of a Regal,' confirmed Berkley, 'so which of the six that flew in yesterday do you serve on?' Asked Berkley in turn.  
'Saphira is my dragon, and I don't think I need call her colouration,' said Eragon, with the barest trace of a grin.  
Berkley gave a bark of laughter.'Probably be seeing more of you,' he said, 'Maximus and I are training as well, we're supposed to be joining Lily's formation, although with you and those other two here now, we might very well be reassigned,' he added, meditatively chewing on a piece of black pudding.

They lapsed back into silence, focusing more on their meals.  
Shortly afterward, Laurence entered, and after a brief discussion with one of the servants, made his way over to the table, before sitting across from Eragon.  
'Good morning Mr. Bromsson,' said Laurence politely.  
'Morning,' replied Eragon, before tapping the table to get the attention of the maid that had just served Laurence, to bring more tea.  
Eragon snuck a covert look at Berkley, who was eyeing Laurence with a level look.  
They ate in silence for a while longer, then, as Eragon had predicted would happen, Berkley spoke up.

'Don't choke,' he advised Laurence, 'Tolly, more tea,' he bellowed.  
'You Laurence?' He asked, in much the same tone he'd used with Eragon.  
'Yes sir, you have the advantage of me.'  
'Berkley,' he replied. 'Look here, what sort of nonsense have you been filling your dragon's head with? My Maximus has been muttering all morning about wanting a bath, and his harness removed; absurd stuff.'  
Eragon couldn't help but eye Berkley sideways.  
'What's so absurd about your dragon wishing to rest more comfortably? The only time I leave Saphira's saddle on is the eve before battle, or when we must travel quickly, and what is so wrong about indulging a dragon with a bath?' Asked Eragon coolly.  
'I must say I am in agreement with Captain Bromsson's view of the matter, sir, I do not find it absurd to care after my dragon's comfort,' said Laurence, hands tightening on his cutlery.  
'Why damn the both of you, are you suggesting I neglect Maximus? No one has ever washed dragons; they don't mind a little dirt, they have hide.'  
'That doesn't mean they don't appreciate a wash, and would you leave a horse constantly saddled?' Asked Murtagh evenly, as he joined them at the table, sitting next to Laurence, putting the table between himself and Eragon.  
_He doesn't want to offer provocation of an argument._ Observed Saphira.  
Eragon gave silent acknowledgement of the remark.  
'Murtagh.' Greeted Eragon neutrally.  
Murtagh nodded evenly in way of reply.  
'And evidently your dragon disagrees; do you suppose yourself a better judge than he of what gives him discomfort?' Enquired Laurence.  
Berkley scowled at him fiercely, then abruptly snorted.  
'Well, the three of you are fire-breathers, make no mistake, and you two in particular,' said Berkley, indicating Eragon and Murtagh with his fork, 'I suppose you acquired _that _from your dragons; and here I thought you Navy fellows were all so stiff and cautious-like.' He added, indicating Laurence, before downing his fork, draining his teacup, and stood from the table. 'I'll be seeing you all later, Celeritas wants to pace Maximus and Temeraire together, and see how those two fire-breathers fly.' He nodded, apparently in all friendliness, and left.

Eragon quickly crammed the remains of his breakfast in his mouth, before draining his near-full teacup in a single draft, and stood from the table, and quickly followed.  
Murtagh pragmatically grabbed several slices of toast from a plate that had just been set out and followed suit.  
Laurence was left dazed by the sudden reversal, and with the unexpected support of Eragon and Murtagh of his view; then realised he was near to being late, and had no more time to think over the incident.

* * *

Eragon was met in the courtyard once again by Saphira, Noelfavrel, Arya and Galzra, and also Thorn, Mortarius and Captain waited slightly off to one side, impatiently, for Laurence to exit the dining quickly crossed to Saphira, who crouched down to allow Eragon to clamber onto her back.'Arya, while you still have some time, do you mind going through the supplies we received this morning with Angela and Noelfavrel?' Asked Eragon.'A reply to my message won't get here until this evening at the earliest, we'll make a start,' promised Arya, before heading off, along with Noelfavrel and Galzra, who seemed quite relieved to escape the presence of Thorn, Temeraire and Mortarius.

Laurence dashed out of the hall like a bullet from a gun, and found himself paying for his virtue by having to put Temeraire into the far more complex harness.  
Eragon shared a quick glance with Murtagh.  
They both dismounted, and quickly went to help with the process, and were joined by Captain Sturn.  
Even with the six additional pairs of hands, they only just managed to get the harness on any quicker.  
Celeritas wasn't in the courtyard when they landed, but they were met by Ornthrond and Gringlok.  
The Fanghur flicked his tail, but a subtle nudge from Gringlok, and a low growl from Saphira kept him from commenting.  
A dragoness clad in heavy plate armour could have that effect on anyone.  
Eragon noted that Maximus and Berkley were nowhere to be seen.  
_Perhaps he's being rigged out in a different harness… _Mused Saphira.

They were left in the courtyard alone a short while after, before Celeritas emerged from one of the openings in the cliff wall: evidently quarters for older, or more honoured dragons.  
Eragon reached out and touched Gringlok's mind.  
_That might be an answer to your problem: Put Ornthrond in one of those caves, if one isn't in use, that way he doesn't have to be around dragons asides from training._ Suggested Eragon.  
_Maybe, if these aviators 'll make an exception in this mongrel's case._ Replied Gringlok, there was an affection to the term 'mongrel' that belied the insult.  
Despite how much Gringlok moaned of Ornthrond's obstinate behaviour and obnoxious starts, he held a deep affection for him.

Celeritas shook out his wings, and flew down into the courtyard neatly onto his back legs, and he looked Temeraire over thoroughly. 'Hmm, yes, excellent depth of chest. Inhale please. Yes, yes.' He sat back don on all fours, before turning to Saphira and Eragon.  
'I've never seen armour like that before on a dragon,' admitted Celeritas.  
Eragon had seen Saphira in full armour only twice before, without said armour being covered in blood and detritus of war: Before the battle of Farthen Dûr and before the battle of the Burning Plains.  
Now, with no battle in the offing, Saphira still looked extremely intimidating:

Her entire neck-save for the spikes along her spine- was encased with triangular scales of overlapping burnished steel armour, her belly and chest were protected by the heaviest plates, the lightest were on her tail, and her legs and back were also encased; her wings were left bare, and the single moulded plate lay on top her head, leaving her lower jaw free to bite and snap.

'If I hadn't seen you yesterday, I would assume this is how you normally look,' said Celeritas, with the ghost of amusement in his tone, but it also made clear he was impressed.  
'I trust this armour doesn't slow you unduly?' Asked Celeritas, examining the armour more closely.  
'It slows me down, but it takes a very strong blow to even dent it, let alone break through, and beneath are my scales, which can turn aside a sword in their own right,' replied Saphira.  
Celeritas nodded satisfied.  
The old dragon quickly performed similar inspections of Thorn, Mortarius and Ornthrond, who, despite all expectations, behaved himself, and didn't so much as make a muttered comment.

'Very well, let us have a look at you, two full laps of the training valley, first circuit horizontal turns, then backwing on the second. Go at an easy pace, I wish to assess your conformation, not your speed.' He made a nudging motion with his head, and Thorn went aloft, followed in quick succession by Ornthrond, Mortarius, Saphira, and finally Temeraire.

Eragon lay against Saphira's back and was only forced to remind her of Celeritas' orders on the point of speed when he found that they were beginning to pass Thorn.  
Eragon covertly kept glancing back to watch Mortarius and Temeraire.  
He already had a good idea of Thorn's aerial skills, along with Ornthrond's but the abilities of the Imperial and Yellow Reaper were unknown quantities by virtue of Eragon and Saphira being alien to their current situation.  
Saphira went through the turns, then the loops with the consummate ease that Glaedr and Oromis had commented on in the first day of their training under them.  
'Now again, at speed,' Called Celeritas.  
_Alright Saphira, let's see what Glaedr taught you,_ suggested Eragon.  
Saphira complied as Thorn and Temeraire put on bursts of speed, and Ornthrond and Mortarius followed suit, but they were being left behind by the three faster dragons.

Of these three, Saphira proved the fastest; by the end of the second lap, she'd made half a lap on Mortarius, who proved to be the slowest of the group.  
With the two circuits completed, they headed back towards the courtyard.  
Saphira was breathing regularly, as if she'd only come out of a shallow dive.  
Temeraire wasn't breathing hard, and Thorn and Ornthrond looked as if they wanted to keep going and see who'd be the first to give in and fly back.  
Eragon cast a glance back at the loose flock of dragons, and caught sight above of a spearhead of fast moving shadows in the cloud layer.  
_Saphira…_ Said Eragon in a warning tone, and he felt Saphira tense beneath him.  
The others flew on oblivious.

Then a realisation hit Eragon:  
_Maximus hadn't been present when they arrived in the courtyard.  
_And he hadn't seen several of the other dragons he'd seen the day before either, and if they'd been sent into a battle, surely they would've been sent as well?  
_It's a test of some sort._ Realised Eragon.  
_Then let's give them a lesson, shall we little one?_ Asked Saphira.  
_Aye, lets, friend of my heart._ replied Eragon.

* * *

A moment later, a black shadow fell across them, and a tremendous roaring filled the valley,  
Saphira stopped dead in midair hovering momentarily, skilfully evading the Yellow Reaper that had dove at them, before she tucked her wings in against her sides and shot after it, before taking a position directly above it, and landing on it's back, before taking it's neck in her jaws.  
'What the fucking hell do you mean by this?' Shouted a familiar voice in apoplectic rage.  
Saphira snorted, sufficiently sure she'd made her point, before releasing her captive, and spreading her wings, before beating them again, easily matching the other dragon's speed.  
'I've never seen a dragon hover like that, but my God, Eragon; setting your dragon on Messoria like that, I ought to-' Roared Sutton, shaking his fist at Eragon in apoplectic fury.  
Saphira turned her head.  
'You can stop yelling at Eragon, I was the one who did that, and Eragon only gave me advance warning that something was afoot, the blame is mine, and mine alone,' said Saphira unrepentantly.

* * *

At the same time, Murtagh and Thorn had been similarly dive-bombed, only, Thorn had accelerated, before looping back around, smoke billowing from his nostrils, before hovering to face his assailant, who shot straight past him, before circling back around, to fly level with him.  
'What the blazes was that about!' Shouted Murtagh angrily, Zar'roc already in his hand.  
Thorn's attacker, was a pale greenish dragon, only slightly smaller than Thorn.  
'How's he doing that?' called a man standing at the base of the dragon's neck in astonishment back, as if his dragon hadn't just attacked Thorn for no identifiable reason.

* * *

Ornthrond's assailant was a dragon with a massive wingspan, with black-and-white ripples bordering its orange tipped wings, which faded to a dusky blue down their extraordinary length.

Of all the reactions the dragon could've been expecting, Ornthrond's was probably not one of them.  
The Fanghur, born and raised among the lofty peaks of the Beor Mountains, was thoroughly at ease with things above where he could see, and habitually monitored his general area for threats.  
In the Beors, it wasn't uncommon to be ambushed from above by wild Fanghur defending their territory, hence the precaution.  
Ornthrond waited 'til the dragon was almost upon him, then viciously struck out with his mind, mentally screaming at a pitch that would've broken glass if audible, as well as letting loose a cry from his throat, before wheeling about sharply, causing his assailant, who's dive had become a freefall, to plummet past him.  
Ornthrond kept the assault up, until Gringlok brought him back out of his assault with a blow to the shoulder.  
''At'll serve Ornthrond, 'at'll serve, good job,' complimented Gringlok, slapping Ornthrond's shoulder affectionately.

What the dwarf _didn't_ know, was that Ornthrond had maintained the scream as a spot of vengeance for that particular dragon threatening to douse him in acid if he didn't wait his turn at the feeding ground the previous evening.  
_Not so tough now, hm? Menknurlan._ Thought Ornthrond to himself.

The dragon by now had recovered, and returned to fly level with them.  
Ornthrond prepared to launch another assault, but a mental nudge from Gringlok stopped him.  
Training was training after all.

* * *

Sturn had been expecting the reaction test, but he hadn't expected the stomach dropping intensity of it.  
As the other Yellow Reaper dove from the clouds for them, Mortarius, despite Sturn warning him, instinctively dived, before realising his mistake and quickly rising again, and was shame faced to see the blue-scaled dragon, Saphira, now clad in armour, dive _afte_r her assailant, and show what would've happened in a real fight if they'd used the tactic on her, and see the Longwing he'd seen the day before fall towards the valley floor, with no visible signs of either a foe, or injury.  
He couldn't see Thorn or Temeraire either.  
He'd been the only one to drop.

* * *

Before they were halfway across the valley, there was a tremendous roaring from overhead, and a vast black shadow fell over them: Laurence looked up in alarm to see Maximus barrelling down towards them as if he meant to ram them, as well as the majority of the formation he'd seen training yesterday split off and go after the others who were flying in loose formation with him and Temeraire.  
Temeraire jerked to an abrupt stop and hovered in place, much like Saphira did momentarily to avoid her assailant, and Thorn was doing to keep his assailant in sight.  
Maximus went flying past, and swept back up, just short of the ground.  
'What the Devil do you mean by this Berkley?' Laurence roared at the top of his lungs, standing in the harness; he was in a fury, his hands shaking, but for his grip on the reins.  
'You will explain yourself, sir, this instant-'  
'My God! How can he do that?' Called Berkley back conversationally, as if he hadn't done anything out of the ordinary at all; the two formations formed a loose group, and headed sedately back to the courtyard.  
'Celeritas, do you see that?' Called Berkley.'I do; pray come in and land, all of you,' Celeritas said, calling out from the courtyard.

'Just what in Hellfire was that?' Demanded Murtagh angrily, slamming Zar'roc back into it's sheath.  
'They were flying at you on orders, Captain; do not get agitated,' replied Celeritas as they all landed in the courtyard.  
It was testament to it's size that they could all fit comfortably.  
'It is of utmost importance to test the natural reaction of a dragon to being startled from above, where we cannot see; it is an instinct that often cannot be overcome by any training.' Explained Celeritas.  
'Although, I don't think your reactions,-Thorn, Saphira,-were natural, were they?' Asked Celeritas coolly.

Saphira dipped her head.  
'My former master, Glaedr, trained me in aerial combat; he was an extremely thorough teacher, although my reaction mightn't have been so aggressive if Eragon hadn't warned me of the impending attack, and I hadn't decided to show what can happen if such an attack goes astray.' Replied Saphira.

'I've been attacked from above by Saphira once before, I was in no hurry to be so helpless again.' Replied Thorn stoutly.

'That was very unpleasant,' said Temeraire, looking rather ruffled.  
'Yes, I know, it was done to me when I first started training,' said Maximus cheerfully and unrepentant.  
'How do you hang in the air like that?'  
'I never gave it much thought,' Temeraire said, mollified a little, craning his neck to examine himself. 'I suppose I just beat my wings the other way.'  
Maximus looked questioningly at Thorn.  
''tis an ability all our breed possess, and it is not something we question as to why we can.' Said Thorn to the unanswered question unconcernedly, laying down, and eyeing the dragon that had attacked him with a wary eye.  
'I had assumed it was a common ability, sir; is it unusual then?' Asked Laurence, from where he was comfortingly stroking Temeraire's neck.  
'Only in the sense that it is one of only three examples I've seen in my two hundred years' experience, and the other two examples being Saphira and Thorn,' replied Celeritas dryly, examining Temeraire's wing joints.  
'Angelwings can manoeuvre in tight circles, but not hover in such a manner.' He scratched his forehead. 'We will have to give some thought to the applications of this ability; at the least, you'll be very deadly bombers,' said Celeritas, 'and Temeraire,' added Celeritas, looking at the Imperial seriously, 'I think I might put you under Saphira's tutelage as well, she and Thorn are the only other two capable of hovering in such a manner, and she the only one capable of teaching you manoeuvres,' added Celeritas.

**Okay, so in the book, that's about half a chapter, but seven pages I think rates about a FF chapter.**

**So thank yous for this chapter:**

**For Story Alerting: ****redsun13**

**For Favouriting: ****LazyPlotBunnies****.**

**For Reviewing: ****Hideout Writer****, ****RandomDragonFan**** and ****ZombieChick422**

**Thankyou all for showing your support for the story in these ways, and I hope to see you all next time.**

'**til then:**

**No One-Liners**


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter XVI

Meetings

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

It had been an arduous days flying on all concerned.  
Celeritas had kept Maximus and Temeraire pacing against each other, and alternately switched Temeraire to experimenting with manoeuvres with Saphira and Thorn, while also pacing Ornthrond and Mortarius.  
By the end of the day, Eragon had developed a healthy respect for the old Reaper's ability to watch multiple students engaged in wholly different pursuits simultaneously.  
He was still confused as to why he'd had to remain with Saphira throughout, when the time would've been better spent training with the sword or some other similarly useful practice, but refrained from questioning; for the moment at least.  
They were met outside the dining hall by Noelfavrel, looking tired, and somewhat hang-dog.  
Galzra was asleep beside him, sides rising and falling in time to her breathing.  
'Noelfavrel, did Galzra have those spines before?' Asked Eragon, frowning, as he saw a row of small spines along the back of Galzra's neck and spine, much like Saphira's, only Galzra had also developed a small halo of ten small curved spines from the back of her head as well.  
Noelfavrel glanced at Galzra, then shot a surprised look at Eragon.  
'I certainly don't remember seeing those when she hatched,' he said in surprise.  
'The bond _is_ having an effect on Galzra, possibly being sped along by her natural growth,' mused Eragon, 'but you haven't felt any effect, have you?' Asked Eragon.  
Noelfavrel shook his head.  
'No sir, not at all; Also, Arya asked me to tell you that she has left for London, she received a reply at midday.' Reported Noelfavrel.  
Eragon nodded.  
'Good, that means Nasuada should soon have an answer to any aerial assault Galbatorix has planned soon,' said Eragon.

'And Shadeslayer?' Asked Noelfavrel hesitantly.  
'Yes?' Asked Eragon, pausing and turning around.  
'After we were done sorting the supplies, and Arya left, one of the other Captains here lectured me on babying Galzra, and not enforcing discipline on her,' said Noelfavrel, looking as if he'd just dobbed someone in for something petty.  
'Whatever he said forget it, it's beneath your notice, and what did he look like?' Asked Eragon, already resolving to have harsh words with whichever discontented upstart had decided to critiscise Noelfavrel's inexperience.  
_Maybe you should ask Angela for something, _she _has quite a flair for that if I remember._ Said Saphira with a slight suggestion of vindictive pleasure in her voice.  
'He was tall, neat clothes, he also gave me this,' said Noelfavrel, holding out a rather musty little book.  
Eragon squinted at the title, then quickly pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket that Laurence had given him after the training session; it was a cipher for translating the english alphabet into the dwarven runes, true to his word, Laurence had drawn the cipher up the day before.  
The title read, _An Aire-Man's Manuale on Dragon-Kinde.  
_The title was faded, and the book itself looked as if it'd lain forgotten in some musty storeroom for ages uncounted.  
Eragon couldn't really judge, but he was willing to bet that the title was archaic, and outdated.  
Probably, that had some bearing on the contents.  
Eragon slipped the book into his pocket.

'Come on, dinner should be on now,' said Eragon, heading for the dining hall.  
'I can't leave Galzra on her own.' Protested Noelfavrel.  
'Not to make too fine a point of it Noelfavrel, but it's not as if you'll be abandoning her entirely, even if you ignore the mental link, its still there, and surely Galzra won't fret if you just go for dinner,' said Eragon with pointed reason.  
'I guess so…' said Noelfavrel uncertainly.  
He quickly woke Galzra and told her of the arrangement.  
'Don't worry, I won't get into any trouble, I promise, and you have to eat as well, I do feel safer with you around, but I suppose I must learn to look after myself.' Reassured Galzra, licking at her claws unconcernedly.  
Without further ado, she sidled off to the corner of the courtyard that had been more or less given over completely to Saphira and Thorn, where she promptly curled up and fell asleep again.  
'That reminds me,' said Eragon, 'I'm going to have to teach you telepathy, being bashed over the head with a club hurt less than when you touched my mind.'

* * *

Eragon and Noelfavrel entering the dining room went almost entirely unnoticed, as the senior officers were deep in debate.  
The source of this debate was Angela, standing with her arms folded.  
'Well? Am I welcome at this table or am I not? Is it such a hard question to give such a simple answer to?' Asked Angela looking pointedly at one man in particular, a man Eragon recognised as the Captain he'd seen Gregs arguing with the day was met with awkward silence.  
'Angela, I never thought I'd see the day you'd stand on ceremony.' Said Eragon from the witch turned to Eragon and gave him a small smile.  
'Well I'm not, this blockhead,-' Angela gestured to the man in the neat uniform, 'seems to think that simply because I'm not one of the 'senior officers' that I can't sit at this table; honestly, it's only a _table_, not a spot in a secret counsel to think of how best to attack the king.' She said, which earned a few quiet chuckles from the assembled.  
The captain, looking rather abashed from his taste of Angela's tart words, meekly Angela sat down, making the simple task seem as insulting as possible in the process, Eragon found himself sitting opposite a girl a couple of years younger than his distaste, the man in the pressed uniform was next to his right was Laurence, who seemed to have taken a liking to the man.  
_Probably not surprising, they're both sticklers for neatness, they probably have more in common as well._ Thought Eragon absently.

Further down the table, opposite Angela was Gringlok, who was being shot disapproving glances from many at the table.  
In true dwarven fashion, he'd forgone beverage for a tankard of mead,-courtesy of the crates of supplies now in safe keeping in a previously empty storeroom,- and was conversing quietly in dwarvish with Angela.  
Murtagh sat further down the table talking with a pair of aviators who'd been involved in the surprise-attack test earlier that day.  
Once again, Eragon made no move to insinuate himself into conversation, preferring instead focus on his meal.  
Evidently the cooks had remembered his request, and had forgone giving him any meat.  
As a matter of habit, Eragon was also keeping his mind open, listening to the general ebb and flow of emotion.  
This, coupled with Eragon absently hearing a comment passed by the man in the neat uniform, lead to Eragon deducing that it was this man who'd harangued Noelfavrel.  
'Laurence?' Asked Eragon, glancing up from his meal at a convenient lull in the conversation, 'I hope you don't mind me asking, but aside from Captain Berkley, has anyone commented on your treatment of Temeraire?'  
Laurence looked at Eragon in confusion.  
'No, why do you ask?'  
'Just wondering, Noelfavrel mentioned that some discontented meddler gave him a dressing down for not treating Galzra like an animal,' said Eragon, making no attempt to hide his contempt for such a view.  
Granted, he'd thought the same way of dragons before Saphira hatched, but at least he could claim, in all honesty, ignorance.  
Eragon watched the man in neat uniform closely, and saw a slight colouring in his cheeks.

'I'm sorry to interrupt, but who's Galzra?' Asked the woman across from Eragon.  
'Galzra is one of your country's Winchesters that took one of my party as her Captain last night, Lady…?' Eragon let the question hang.  
The girl's eyes hardened.  
'No, _Captain_, Captain Catherine Harcourt, on Lily,' she said, with some stress.  
Eragon dipped his head.  
'My apologies Captain, it won't happen again, I assure you,' he said.  
'I'm glad to here it, Eragon isn't it?' Asked Harcourt.  
'Yes, that's me, and before you ask, yes Saphira can breath fire and hover, and yes we're two of the foreign party undergoing training here,' added Eragon, pre-empting the by-now expected questions.  
'Well, thank you,' she said taking genuine offence, 'I was going to ask how did your man come up with a name like that, but I suppose I'll ask him myself if you're going to be such a prude,' said Harcourt with heat.  
_Eragon._ Warned Saphira quietly.  
_Alright, I'll apologise, no need to go hunting for carrion._ Replied Eragon resignedly.  
'Again I apologise, I suppose that as everyone I've met here so far at some point asks those questions, I thought I might tell you straight away, and not have to deal with them.'  
Harcourt gave Eragon a level look, which Eragon met steadily.  
'Maybe we both should've been a little more polite, but I am curious, how did your man come up with a name like Galzra?' Asked Harcourt.  
'I'd hazard a guess that Noelfavrel got the name 'Galzra' from the same source I got Saphira's name from,' said Eragon, 'the riders in our world have been all but extinct for nearly a hundred years, and the only place that dragon lore really survived were in stories about the riders; the storyteller in our village, an exiled rider, gave me a list of names to see if Saphira liked any of them, which it turned out she chose the name of his dragon: Saphira, as for Galzra, I believe that the original Galzra thwarted a pirate attack on the city of Tierm alone, unassisted by either the city's guard, or from her rider,' recounted Eragon, remembering the account from one of Oromis's scrolls.  
'Smart dragon,' observed Harcourt.  
'In my experience, it's a universal trait among the dragons of Alagaësia,' said Eragon, 'also, you wouldn't happen to know who this belongs to would you?' Asked Eragon, producing the tatty old book Noelfavrel had given him.  
Harcourt took the book, glanced at the cover, flicked through it a couple of pages, read a moment, then closed it with a snap.  
'Where did you get this? An antique booksellers?' Asked Harcourt in disgust.  
'No, Noelfavrel gave it to me, apparently whoever decided to badger him gave it to him, I take it that it's as outdated and archaic as it's title?' Asked Eragon.  
'More so, that was written probably three hundred odd years ago when the Tudors ruled England, any _sensible_ Captain would use that book for a fire starter,' said Harcourt in the same tone of revulsion, 'if you're wondering, it's a book on how to manage dragons by keeping them down-trodden, and focussed entirely on their work with formations and the like, it has no place in the _modern_ understanding of caring for a dragon.'  
Eragon noted that Harcourt shot more than one slightly vindictive sideways glance at the Captain talking with Laurence.  
'Would you know who owns this perhaps, I'd be very interested in making their acquaintance,' said Eragon.  
Eragon noted that the vindictiveness had deepened to a kind of mischievous gleam, obviously Harcourt knew very well that he would only be taking pleasure in berating the man.  
'Captain Rankin, I don't believe you've met Eragon yet have you?' Asked Harcourt of the man on her right.  
'No, I can't say I've had the pleasure, sir.' Said Rankin calmly.

Club-to-the-back-of-the-head pain.  
_That's him sir, that's the man who said I shouldn't take care of Galzra like I am._ Said Noelfavrel without prompting.  
_Noelfavrel really, until I've shown you how to do that without causing the person you contacted feel like they've been cudgelled, you mind not using telepathy?_ Asked Eragon.

'Eragon Bromsson, Dragon Rider of Alagaësia on Saphira,' said Eragon extending a hand.  
'Captain Jeremy Rankin, at your service,' said Rankin.  
It didn't escape Eragon's notice that of all the aviators he'd met, Rankin was the only one who hadn't automatically said which dragon he served with.  
'If that's the case, you can be of service by telling me what you mean by criticizing Noelfavrel about his treatment of Galzra.' Said Eragon, eyeing Rankin dangerously, 'Our two worlds can't be so different that such interference is considered polite,' stated Eragon.  
'That boy is a member of your party, sir?' Asked Rankin with genuine surprise.  
'Correct, and as such I've been tasked with teaching him the ways of the riders, so your interference I'm inclined to take as a personal insult, _sir.'_ Added Eragon.  
'My apologies, I would never-' Rankin broke off, probably realising what the comment would've sounded like.  
'In future, I suggest you mind your own dragon, and leave the instruction of Galzra and Noelfavrel to Saphira and I.' Stated Eragon coldly, 'and I believe _this_ is yours.' Added Eragon, thrusting the outdated dragon-book into Rankin's chest.  
Eragon had to be careful not to put too much strength behind the thrust for fear of staving in Rankin's chest, not that Eragon thought that any besides his dragon would care much.

The shove still had enough force to send Rankin toppling out of his seat.  
Laurence looked in askance at Eragon.  
'Don't try and tell me that was rude, interfering with another rider's dragon is considered the height of rudeness, and I'm sure that rule holds true here as well.' Warned Eragon pointedly.  
Laurence swallowed whatever he'd been about to say and went to help Rankin to his feet.  
Eragon turned his attention back to his meal, but glanced up to see Harcourt giving him an odd look.  
'What?' Asked Eragon.  
'Nothing, I've just never seen anyone get so exasperated with him to actually strike him,' said Harcourt unconcerned.  
'He got off lightly, if the rules of the aviators permitted it, I would've challenged him to a duel,' admitted Eragon.

The meal lapsed back into silence again, although Eragon was pleased to see Rankin stalk out of the hall, looking extremely haughty.

* * *

Saphira tucked her wings against her sides, and swooped for a cow that had just fallen in it's haste to be away from Lily and hadn't been surprised to learn that the dragons of this world, when in a group went by a hierarchy of size and the top two tier positions in the covert belonged to Maximus and Lily, a dragon Saphira had only met that morning after the reaction , Saphira hadn't been willing to hang back and have to dodge every which way through a flock of other dragons to hunt her prey, so she'd joined Lily and Maximus.

Saphira hit the cow in the side as it rose, and killed it with a swift bite to the neck.

A shrill cry made her glance up to see Ornthrond and Lily nipping at each other.  
Rolling her eyes in exasperation, and leaving her kill, Saphira launched herself into the air, and barrelled up at Ornthrond, gathering speed with each beat of her wings, before she roared in irritation when she was right below the pair.  
Ornthrond desperately struck at Saphira's mind, but she was ready for the tactic, and blocked the mental scream, before tackling Ornthrond out of the air, and pinning the Fanghur with her paw around his neck.  
_Enough! If you keep behaving like that, I'll kill you myself, and telepathic assault doesn't work on me, so don't think I can't._ Saphira roared, adding a menacing growl for emphasis.  
'But I can defeat any dragon here, why should I let them have first meat?' Asked Ornthrond mulishly.  
'Because if you don't, I will kill you, or if any of the dragons here are smart, they'll wait until you're asleep, _then_ kill you.' Explained Saphira coldly.

This gave Ornthrond pause:  
Convinced as he was of his own superiority, the Fanghur wasn't stupid, he knew exactly what the outcome would be in both circumstances.  
'Alright,' he grumbled, and Saphira lifted her paw, after which Ornthrond meekly returned to the lip of the valley to wait.

Saphira turned back to her meal, only to see the last of it disappear down Maximus' gullet.  
'Oh.' Said the Regal Copper embarrassed, 'sorry, after you left that, I didn't think you wanted it,' he said apologetically.  
Saphira snorted bad temperedly, and took off again, before circling around, searching for any other prey.  
Another two cows had just been released.  
Saphira immediately dived for them, snatching one in her jaws, before landing and killing it outright, before tripping the second with a sweep of her tail and killing it with another bite of her jaws.  
Picking up her two kills, Saphira headed further out into the feeding grounds, so as not to scare the rest of the prey animals into staying in the pen, before beginning to feed.  
'Thank you for that,' said a voice, followed quickly by the sound of folding wings.  
Saphira paused in her meal and nodded in acknowledgement.  
As she expected, it was Lily.  
'You do not owe me any thanks Ornthrond does, if I hadn't humbled him, someone else would've killed him.' Stated Saphira, before swallowing an entire haunch of a cow whole.  
'How did you deal with him screaming in your head though? It made me fall out of the sky during the reaction test today.' Asked Lily.  
'Part of my training; I was taught how to guard against such mental attacks,' explained Saphira.  
'Could you teach me?' Asked Lily curiously.  
Saphira glanced at Lily for a moment.  
'It is a hard skill to master,' warned Saphira.  
'I am _not _going to be at that little fool's mercy again.' Stated Lily with some heat.  
'Very well,' said Saphira, 'choose something, a sound, an image, a memory, anything, then concentrate on it to the exclusion of all else, when you're ready, let me know and we shall see how strong your defence is.' Said Saphira, before turning back to her kills.  
She'd just finished her first cow, and begun on the second when Lily nodded sharply.

Saphira reached out with her mind, and rammed her conscience, full-force into Lily's.  
To her surprise, the mental assault was stopped cold by a barrier composed of Lily's feelings for her Captain.  
Saphira changed tack, and tried to find a weak section to undermine.  
Then tried to overwhelm Lily's defences by constricting them.  
Finally, Saphira flicked her tail at Lily, tapping her lightly on the ribs, which caused a brief loss of her concentration, allowing Saphira to slip in.  
_Impressive for your first attempt._ Said Saphira, then withdrew from Lily's mind.  
'However, you need to maintain your focus, even in the midst of battle; allow your concentration to slip, even for a moment, and your assailant will gain dominion over your mind.' Admonished Saphira.  
'How did I do?' Asked Lily excitedly.  
'Good enough to keep Ornthrond out of your head, but as I just said, you need to be able to maintain your focus, even in the middle of a battle.' Replied Saphira, before going back to her meal.  
'I'll practice then.' Resolved Lily.  
_Glad to here it._ Said Saphira, cracking her second kill's skull in her jaws.

* * *

Arya leant against the mantle piece over the fire in the meeting room, and regarded Admiral Powys with an imperious look.  
'Admiral, I don't think you grasp the concept that the Varden's only defence against aerial attack are Saphira and Eragon, and their abilities make them worth at the least a formation of your dragons, I cannot speak for Murtagh, who has no master or liege lord, but I can safely say that your loaning us the use of even one of your formations, as an aerial defence in place of Eragon and Saphira, and Gringlok and Ornthrond is an entirely fair compromise,' said Arya, 'also, if the Varden fall, there is nothing stopping Galbatorix augmenting Bonaparte's forces wholesale with his own; they may not possess black powder weapons, but they're no less skilled, or dangerous for that.' She added.  
'And I do not think, ambassador Arya, that you grasp that Bonaparte's _Armee de l'air _has us outnumbered three dragons to one; we simply cannot spare any of our active formations,' replied Powys, pouring a glass of port.  
'Drink?' Asked Powys.  
Arya shook her head.'Well, if you can't spare any of your_ active_ formations, what about a founding a formation, surely with the numbers of dragons you have, you'd be able to form a formation, if only by necessity a small one?' Pressed Arya.

Powys didn't answer immediately, but placed down his glass and leaned back in his chair.  
'You're right of course; we _do_ shuffle dragons around formations, usually more experienced dragons to formations hinging around more inexperienced dragons, the formation currently in training at Loch Laggan is an example; however, I'm sure you realise how much experience counts in a battle: more than numbers certainly, so if we were to found a formation to send to Alagaësia, it would be by necessity a small one, no more than five or six dragons, and only one dragon with any substantial combat experience.' He said.  
Arya gave the Admiral a small smile.  
'That should be enough, but would you have any recommendations?' Asked Arya.

'Well, we don't have many Longwings, and the ones we do have are needed to protect the coast, the same with our Regal Coppers, we don't have many, and they can't really be spared, however for a formation, we usually have at least two Reapers in the midwing positions, two light weights in the wing-tip positions, heavy weights anchoring the backline, and the formation leader in the lead,' said Powys, sketching a rough diagram on the back of a piece of paper.  
Arya nodded, she'd skimmed the surface of Powys' mind for information on the different British dragon breeds, so she understood what he was saying.  
'If you can't spare any of your Regal Coppers or Longwings, then perhaps you'd consider allowing a Chequered Nettle and a Parnassian for the heavy weight positions, I won't doubt you on the use of the Reapers, but what about the light weights? Are there any Sharpspitters in active service?' Asked Arya.  
Powys shook his head.  
'No, we have a few, but they're breeding stock, although I heard from the breeders at Pen Y Fan that they sent an egg produced by a match between a Sharpspitter and a Winchester to the covert at Dover, and I understand it is to hatch soon,' said Powys.  
Arya suppressed her distaste at breeding dragons like horses with some difficulty.  
'What about the two heavy weights?' Asked Arya.  
'You're in luck there, I received a report today that a Chequered Nettle was hatched at the Liverpool covert, as for a Parnassian, the only one we could really spare would be Victoriatus at the covert in Edinburgh, a rather quiet post by all accounts, but he'd be the most experienced dragon we could spare at present; as for Reapers, I believe one went with you to Loch Laggan from Nottingham, to help transport the Winchester that took that lad with your group as her Captain, he's unassigned at the moment, aside from him, I believe we have a second Yellow Reaper that hatched not four days ago in Blackpool, we could spare her as well.' Listed Powys.  
Arya looked at the list in front of her.

Six dragons.  
None of them capable of breathing fire.  
None of them capable of using magic.  
And none of them with nearly the same experience as Shruikan, and none of the training Glaedr could've given.  
And five of those six with no combat experience, and one yet to even hatch.

Arya looked over to a mirror hanging on the wall, and quickly brought it over the desk.  
She quickly invoked the communication scrying spell, and a moment later Nasuada was looking through at them.  
Admiral Powys quickly repeated the offer to Nasuada, as well as explaining the relative abilities of the breeds.  
Nasuada considered for a while, before calling it to the attention of King Orrin and the Council of Elders.

Inside of thirty seconds, there was a unanimous decision.

'We accept.' Said Nasuada, 'but hurry gathering these dragons, Galbatorix could soon decide to press his advantage.' Implored Nasuada.  
'Of course Lady Nasuada.' Said Admiral Powys.  
'And Arya, see to it that this decision doesn't get bogged down in politics.' Ordered Nasuada.  
Arya gave a small smile.  
'I intend to.' She said, before terminating the spell.

**Okay, so the update is a bit early.**

**What can I say, but I got a day off and decided to write?**

**Now, for thank yous this time round:**

**For Favourite Authoring: ****ZombieChick422**

**For Favourite Storying: ****ZombieChick422**

**For reviewing: ****ZombieChick422****, ****RandomDragonFan****, and ****Hideout Writer****.**

**I'll try and have another chapter done for the regular spot over the weekend.**

**Shouldn't be too difficult, as term ends on Friday. (YES!)**

'**til next time:**

**No One-liners.**


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter XVII

Downtime

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

After dinner, the courtyard was alive with the chatter of aviators and dragons.  
Off in their corner, Eragon had the perspective of a man on the outside of a window looking in:  
Despite the willingness of the aviators to talk to him and the others, this was evidently a time to relax, and for captains to spend with their dragons.  
For Eragon it was slightly different.

Eragon exited the storage shed that their supplies were housed in, bearing two mock swords of seasoned oak.  
One of these, he threw to Noelfavrel, who looked at Eragon in confusion.  
'You have to learn to wield a blade at some point, and the best place to start is the beginning.' Said Eragon, indicating a clear space between Saphira and Thorn.  
Murtagh was himself practicing his swordcraft, moving through the forms alone.  
'Murtagh, do you mind?' Asked Eragon.  
Murtagh paused after finishing a backhand feint with a overhead slash.  
'Teaching the boy swordcraft are you?' Asked Murtagh warily.  
There was an unspoken tension between them, and they both knew it.  
'Actually, I was going to ask if you would care to offer a demonstration with me,' said Eragon, a gesture without malice.  
'I can't match you Eragon, when Galbatorix's spells on Thorn were broken, the same spells on me were broken,' explained Murtagh.  
Eragon sighed.  
'Very well,' he said, disappointed.  
Noelfavrel took a ready position opposite Eragon.  
_The wheel has come full-circle._ Observed Saphira with some amusement.  
Eragon couldn't help but smile slightly as he remembered his first time sparring with Brom.  
'Noelfavrel, I expect you not to hold back, make every blow you , make count, as if you were fighting to save your life,' admonished Eragon.  
Noelfavrel nodded slightly, eyes keenly alert for the slightest sign of movement.  
Eragon waited patiently, but it was obvious Noelfavrel was willing to wait just as long as he was.  
So Eragon made the first move, lunging across the intervening space between them, aiming a cut at Noelfavrel's side.

He was holding back of course; if he put everything he had into it, even with a practice sword, the blow would probably have killed Noelfavrel.

It didn't come as much of a surprise to Eragon that Noelfavrel blocked his first blow, but he was surprised the boy managed to catch his second.  
And the third, desperately.  
And the fourth, but this was wide.  
The fifth caught Noelfavrel on the upper arm, and he yelped in pain.  
On reflex, Noelfavrel struck back, but he didn't have much room to work, and only succeeded in pushing Eragon back a step, before Eragon struck again, this time an overhand that rapped smartly on the top of Noelfavrel's head, causing him to drop his sword and clutch at his aching skull.  
Eragon punished this with a stinging follow-up to the ribs.  
'Pick up your weapon Noelfavrel, if we were training with sharpened blades, you'd be dead, _never_ drop your weapon, and keep your guard up and elbows in.' Instructed Eragon, before returning to his starting position.  
'And move your feet, if you stand in the one place like that, your opponent will crowd you, and keep you off balance, so you can't swing your sword properly,' called Murtagh, looking up from his dragon scroll.  
_Thank you, but who's doing the teaching here?_ Asked Eragon of Murtagh.  
'That given, I can see that you have some experience with a sword, I take it you learnt a thing or two from Lang?' Asked Eragon, referring to one of the Varden's veteran soldiers, who'd been tasked to train the villagers of Carvahall into warriors capable of holding their own.  
'I was studying under Lang, but even he didn't hit that hard,' said Noelfavrel, wincing as he rubbed his arm.  
'A real opponent wouldn't soften their blows, and the only reason I have is because I'd kill you if I put my full strength into a strike,' said Eragon coolly, remembering Brom's philosophy, 'now, let's try again, and remember: don't let me crowd you, keep your guard up, your arms in, don't stand still, and whatever you do,_don't drop your weapon.'  
_Noelfavrel complied without complaint.

This time, it was him that made the first move, lunging at Eragon, before striking at Eragon's left, before whipping the practice sword's blade around at the opposite side of Eragon's head.  
Eragon blocked the strike, before pressing back with a retaliation which Noelfavrel was forced to parry.  
This time, Eragon began probing at Noelfavrel's technique, pressing the boy to see how proficient he was.  
Compared to Eragon, not very, but Eragon was reasonably sure that Noelfavrel would be capable against most of Galbatorix's soldiers.  
Eragon also purposefully drew the fight out, testing Noelfavrel to the limits of his endurance.  
Finally, the boy made a telling mistake, blocking a strike hilt-to-hilt with Eragon.  
Eragon shoved Noelfavrel back, sending him sprawling, before bringing the practice sword's point to Noelfavrel's neck.  
'Not bad, but you've got room to improve,' Said Eragon, before helping Noelfavrel to his feet.

Before Eragon knew what was happening, he was flat on his back, with Galzra glaring down at him, eyes flickering with anger.  
'How _dare _you hurt my Captain like that, and order him about like he was a servant,' said Galzra dangerously, 'and I felt all that as well, so I am angry with you on both our accounts.' Added Galzra.  
'Galzra, let Eragon up, it doesn't do any good learning to fight with an opponent who goes easy on you,' implored Noelfavrel.  
'I still think you went too far,' said Galzra obstinately, but relented, and jumped off Eragon's chest, before going over to Noelfavrel, and coiling jealously around his leg.  
'Galzra, how do you expect me to improve my fighting skills, unless Eragon presses me to?' Asked Noelfavrel.  
Galzra muttered something unintelligible and coiled herself tighter.  
'Galzra,' said Eragon firmly, looking at the little Winchester sternly.  
She stiffened slightly, then relaxed grudgingly and uncoiled herself from Noelfavrel, before looking at Eragon.  
'I would never intentionally injure a student under my instruction, nor would I press Noelfavrel so hard unless I was confident he could handle it.' Said Eragon.  
'You might think he can handle it, but _I'm_ not so sure,' shot Galzra back.  
Before Eragon could reply, Saphira had raised her head and fixed Galzra with a steely glare, growling low in her throat.  
_Don't forget hatchling, Eragon is my rider, and the two of us are your instructors, you will show Eragon the same respect you show me._ Said Saphira warningly.  
Galzra chirped in fear, and backed away from Saphira, behind Noelfavrel.  
'You're using your rider as a shield?' Enquired Noelfavrel with something approaching amusement, 'Yes, that will be helpful if we ever get into a real fight, you backing behind me instead of trying to scare our foes off by looking intimidating.'  
Galzra glanced at Noelfavrel shamefaced, before edging from behind him to his side.  
_Sorry._ She said privately to Noelfavrel.

A concussive gust of wind battered the group, causing Murtagh to swear harshly when the gust tore the scroll he was reading.  
When he looked up, he found himself looking at Celeritas.  
'Yes? You'd better have a good reason for tearing this scroll,' said Murtagh waspishly, before muttering a spell to repair the damage.  
Celeritas ignored Murtagh, and turned his attention to Eragon.  
'What's this I hear that you've been duelling?' Asked Celeritas sternly of Eragon, who blinked in confusion.  
'Duelling? I have been doing no such thing master, I may have been testing Noelfavrel's skill with a sword, but we were using wooden blades,' said Eragon, holding up his own practice sword for Celeritas to examine.  
Celeritas' forked tongue snaked out as he tasted the air, before drawing back his head.  
'My apologies, we can't be making exceptions to the edict on duelling, so I had to come and enquire,' explained Celeritas.  
'Whoever said we were planning on duelling? The closest that we'd get is if Murtagh had consented to spar with me, and even then we would've been using blunted blades,' Asked Eragon.  
'Captain Rankin, although I didn't believe him until Captain Sturn relayed that you were sparring with this lad here,' said Celeritas, motioning to Noelfavrel.  
'So where is this Rankin fellow? This is the second time he's stuck his nose where it doesn't belong, and I rather think I'll put a hook in it for him,' Asked Murtagh, putting his scroll aside.  
'You'll do no such thing; I will have words with him, and that will be an end to it, good day to you,' said Celeritas sternly, before taking off again, heading back to his quarters.

Murtagh stood now, and stretched.  
'If you would Eragon, how about you let Angela teach Noelfavrel telepathy? I for one would like a drink, and a quiet word.' Said Murtagh, 'meet me in the officer's club,' he added over his shoulder.  
Angela looked up from where she was knitting beside the wall.  
'Go on, it'll do you and him and the rest of us good if you can fill the void between the two of you, we're going to be stuck with each other for a long while after all.' Said Angela, before beckoning Noelfavrel over.  
Eragon looked to Saphira.  
'Worry about your oath when we return to Alagaësia, there is the only place it matters.' Advised Saphira, before settling down, and beginning to put Galzra through a series of exercises designed to test her flexibility.  
Left with little else to do, Eragon followed Murtagh.

* * *

'So what's this about?' Asked Eragon from across the table to Murtagh, who was leaning back in his chair, balancing it against the wall, boots on the table, with a goblet of wine in his hand, looking, for the first time in the entire time Eragon had known him, _almost_ entirely at ease.  
He didn't answer immediately, but took a deliberate sip of wine.  
'I know it makes little difference to the fact of Oromis' and Glaedr's deaths, but I am truly sorry about the whole affair,' said Murtagh in a low voice.  
Not so at ease after all.  
'Even if I could forgive you for that, the elves, the dwarves, the Varden, no one among them will, and you probably already know I am sworn to avenge King Hrothgar,' replied Eragon.  
Murtagh took another sip of wine, regarding Eragon over the top of the goblet.  
'I know, in fact I accept that, and to tell you the truth, I don't give half a damn about Alagaësia anymore, or what anyone there thinks of me.' Said Murtagh plainly.  
This was something of a surprise to Eragon.  
'What?' He asked in confusion.  
'Look around you Eragon: We're in a world where we can live free from Galbatorix's shadow, and not one man, woman, or child jack-among the populace has taken an instant dislike to me, and I needn't constantly fear for my life, and the same goes for you: You're neither a hero nor a villain here, you can have a chance at a normal existence,' said Murtagh gesturing broadly at the room in general, but meaning rather, the world.  
Eragon still couldn't think of what Murtagh was getting at, but there was one point that he disagreed on.  
'No Murtagh, you're wrong, I've seen too much injustice throughout the empire to turn my back on those who cannot fight, nor can I turn my back on the Varden,' said Eragon, emphatically shaking his head.  
Murtagh shrugged.  
'Suit yourself, but know that when you return to Alagaësia, I am not going with you.' Said Murtagh easily.  
_So that's it._ Realised Eragon.  
'You mean you won't face the consequences of what you've done.' Countered Eragon.  
Murtagh put his goblet aside, and sat down in his seat.  
'In case you hadn't noticed, even when I get my life on track again, fate always steps in and tears it asunder, I have suffered much in Alagaësia, a lot of it undeserved; I've already been punished for doing nothing other than existing, call me a coward if you want, but I am beyond caring; I'll help you and the Varden oust Galbatorix, help these English beat Napoleon, and then I'm going to explore this world, find a nice quiet place and settle down for a century or two.' Having made his speech, Murtagh drained his goblet, and put it down.  
'Figured I might let you know that when all is said and done with this affair, I'll stay here as ambassador.' Finished Murtagh, before heading to the bar for a refill.  
While he was gone, Eragon slipped out as well.

* * *

The air was cold, but Eragon didn't cold took his mind off recent events.  
_It has been an eventful few days._ Said Saphira, picking up on Eragon's thoughts.  
_I still can't believe Murtagh wishes to stay here._ Said Eragon for maybe the third time.  
_It is his choice, and at least he wishes to be of use here, and it a decent thing he is doing, putting himself out of harm's way, instead of inflaming the world against us with his authority._ Said Saphira in reply.  
_And there's something I hadn't even considered: Murtagh has no allegiance anymore but his own and Thorn's, they're effectively the two most powerful beings in the world._ Added Eragon, still on the same train of thought.  
In a calculated bid to break Eragon from his brooding on Murtagh, Saphira swooped low towards the lake, before skimming the surface, creating a spectacular,-and freezing cold,- fountain of spray.  
Eragon was immediately wet, and no longer concerned so much with Murtagh, as swearing hoarsely as he shivered against Saphira's back.  
_Saphira!_ Said Eragon in exasperation.  
_You wouldn't stop brooding, and you didn't even notice we're not the only ones out here._ Said Saphira, motioning with her head to the shingle beach as she the shingle was Temeraire, with a group of cadets and quickly muttered a short spell under his breath to dry off, and Saphira descended towards the beach.

When they reached the shore, they were greeted by Laurence, and much to Eragon's bewilderment, three of the young cadets, not one of them older than twelve.  
The cadets were staring at Saphira in open mouthed awe, which Eragon put down to them having heard rumour of Saphira's abilities, and being extremely impressed.  
Eragon wordlessly dropped from Saphira's saddle, and was met on the ground by Laurence.  
When Eragon turned from Saphira, he found himself face to face with the Captain.  
'What was that in the dining hall? Whatever did Captain Rankin do to deserve that sort of uncivilised treatment?' Enquired Laurence in askance, as Saphira went to the edge of the lake to drink.  
'Partly an insult to myself, partly what I said afterward, it is the height of rudeness to interfere with another rider's dragon, and I classify Rankin's haranguing Noelfavrel as such; also giving Noelfavrel that outdated book I took personally as a criticism of my instruction, and as I am barred from challenging him to a duel, or killing him outright, I chose the next best option, which was to humiliate him, if he chooses the same course of action again, I won't be as forgiving.' Explained Eragon, rubbing his hands together to stave off the cold.  
He might've dried himself, but Saphira's trick had still left him feeling the chill.  
'You could've done the Christian thing and turned the other cheek,' suggested Laurence.  
'First of all, I do not know the first thing of any of the religions of this world so the significance of that is lost on me; and secondly, if I'd left that unchecked, the good Captain Rankin would've undoubtedly continued that line of action, better that be stopped _now,_ instead of later when irreparable damage might've been already done.' Replied Eragon, joining Saphira at the water's edge  
'And isn't that the same as interference?' Asked Laurence coolly of Eragon.  
Eragon groaned as the icy water numbed his teeth.  
'No, as you've probably already noticed, dragons are as intelligent as you or I; a conversation I'm inclined to exempt from that rule; it would be like suggesting that holding a conversation with a married woman is like having an affair with her: absurd, because any blind fool can see that the two are completely different things.' Said Eragon, before drawing Brisingr, muttering the sword's name, and warming his hand by the radiant heat, and repeating the process with his opposite hand.  
Eragon pretended not to see the unnerved look on Laurence's face, but he did give the three cadets a warning look.  
'If you're wondering, no, I am not a liberty to teach you how to do this, and I doubt any of you would possess the ability to sense magic in the first place, it's a rare enough gift in Alagaësia, but here, I'd be surprised to find even one person in this entire world with the ability,' said Eragon, and the hopeful looks died away.  
'I would hope you wouldn't show interest in the first place,' Laurence told them, 'Captain Bromsson has stated that the use of magic is a dangerous endeavour even for one who knows it's intricacies and dangers, and I do not think I need remind you that witchcraft is the power of the devil.' Added Laurence, casting the three a stern glance.  
Eragon silently processed that magic in general was considered a power of evil in this world at large.  
_I think you should be a bit more sparing in your use of your powers Eragon, I don't think everyone will be accepting that your power is not unnatural, but merely unusual._ Suggested Saphira, before glancing at him with one large sapphire eye.  
_I plan to swim for a short while, if you would be so kind as to remove this saddle._ She said.  
Eragon quickly complied, before retreating to under a small tree, and taking a small rag and a bottle of oil from a small saddlebag, before setting to work oiling the saddle.

Intent as he was on his work, he did see that Laurence had joined him, and when he glanced up, he saw that Temeraire, and one of the Winchesters he'd seen the previous day were also swimming in the lake alongside Saphira.  
'And what can I do for you Will? Advice, an anecdote, or is it idol curiosity?' Asked Eragon, not pausing in his work, with the ease of long practice.  
Laurence sat heavily next to Eragon and leaned against the tree.  
'Curiosity, but not idol, I'm concerned that Temeraire may be feeling unsure, and he was rather dejected when I went to find him after dinner, indeed he was outside the courtyard when I found him, and he was rather dismal about the fact other dragons took precedence over himself, and that the others looked strangely at him.' Explained Laurence.  
Eragon didn't answer immediately.  
He took time oiling the leg bindings of his saddle, pondering his answer, he could see the problem Laurence was getting at, but he wasn't sure what to do.  
'I'm afraid I can't really help you there, Saphira has never been unsure of herself, and indeed, I can only claim to have ever been in the company of two dragons at a time for any period of time before now; however, it could be a lack of confidence, or something like,- as I say, I wouldn't know, as I've never had to deal with Saphira feeling unsure of herself on matters like that, and she's not mentioned anything like herself,- so my advice is offer encouragement and reassurance; asides from that, I'm not sure there's much more you can do, except buy him some trinket or other, though to me that course of action smacks of buying his affection, though if I had any money of my own I might buy Saphira some ornament of her own, but I'll leave what you do up to you.' Answered Eragon at last, before moving onto the breast band of the saddle.

* * *

Murtagh took another meditative draft of wasn't so much the wine he was savouring, but the feeling of not having any burden at all.  
'Waiting for someone Romeo?' Asked Sturn, coming up to the table.  
Murtagh gave Sturn a quizzical look.  
'Mind if I sit here?' Tried Sturn, motioning to the unoccupied seat.  
'What do you want Captain?' Asked Murtagh, sitting up straighter in his seat.  
'Figured you might want someone to talk too, and I was just curious as to why Eragon and that kid were fighting before,' explained Sturn, sliding into the seat opposite Murtagh.  
'Oh, they weren't fighting, if they'd been fighting, they would've used proper blades, not wooden swords.' Said Murtagh easily.  
'You sure? It looked like they were really going at it, and I'm not the only one who noticed, that bastard Rankin was one of them, but I saw Berkley, Sutton and Harcourt watching as well, not to mention half the dragons in the courtyard.'  
'They pulled that big an audience?' Asked Murtagh in genuine surprise.  
'Yeah, I've never seen sword work half as fancy, and it looked like that kid was really pressing Eragon.' Said Sturn, sounding impressed.  
Murtagh gave a bark of laughter, before knocking back his goblet.  
'I can assure you, Eragon wasn't even trying, he was testing Noelfavrel to see how good he is, which is better than I expected certainly, but Eragon is a master of the blade, he could've beaten Noelfavrel blindfolded.' Assured Murtagh.  
'Blimey,' said Sturn in affected astonishment, before draining his own glass.  
A hush suddenly gripped the room, and the pair glanced to the door, and saw Laurence walk in.  
'Sir,' said a man at the pianoforte, who Murtagh recognised as the game player who'd nearly taken Eragon's head off the day before with a cannon-ball kick; even though Murtagh wasn't on the receiving end of the insolence, he couldn't help but rest a hand on Zar'roc's hilt.  
Laurence made his way over to a corner where Rankin sat, talking with Lieutenant Gregs, Gregs resignedly left and came over to where Sturn and Murtagh sat, looking thoroughly disgusted.  
'Captain Sturn, Captain Murtagh.' Said Gregs as he sat down.  
'Just Murtagh, Gregs, and what was all that?' Asked Murtagh motioning to where the man from the night before still stood, gazing with undisguised dislike at Laurence.  
'Oh, that's Lieutenant Granby, you made your way back with Captain Portland and Laetificat didn't you?' Asked Gregs with a frown.  
'Yes, why?' Asked Murtagh not sure of how it could be relevant.  
'Granby last assignment was with Laetificat's crew, and I heard about that business with Dayes, along with the rest of the Corps, Granby's sore about Dayes not getting his step,' explained Gregs.  
'Right, and what about that business with that Rankin fellow?' Asked Murtagh.  
'Private project of Gregs, Murtagh: the Lieutenant has been trying to get Rankin to treat his dragon properly, instead of neglecting him, although to what purpose I've got no idea,' said Sturn, looking at Gregs with a mixture of approval and amusement.  
'He neglects his dragon?' Asked Murtagh incredulously.  
'Yeah, he's that bastard Admiral Peterson told you about the other day: He's got elegant manners, and he's a snappy dresser, and he comes from an old aviator family, but there are many in the Corps that would cheerfully kill him for neglecting his dragon; I figured I might be able to use your high regard for dragons as a whole to scare him shitless and make him clean up his act.' Explained Gregs.  
The three men sat drinking quietly for a while, but the atmosphere felt somehow taut to Murtagh.  
_Murtagh, you should do what these others won't and kill that man._ Said Thorn to Murtagh, and he realised that the tautness wasn't in the room, but coming from Thorn, who was doubtlessly watching to see when Rankin might appear.  
'I'm sorry, but I'd best go and see to Thorn before he goes and tears this place apart to get to Rankin,' said Murtagh apologetically.  
'Here, I'll come too,' said Gregs standing,' I should probably tell you, the plan is to measure Saphira, Ornthrond and Thorn for proper harnesses tomorrow, but for now I've got nothing better to do, and I might be able to give you a hand.' He stood as well.  
'I should probably go see Mort, else he's liable to get into trouble like he did the other day,' said Sturn, and they left, Murtagh more hurriedly than the other two.

* * *

Noelfavrel groaned as he stood.  
He'd been sitting down practising telepathy for the better part of an hour, and he was stiff as a board.  
He glanced around, looking for Galzra, but she wasn't anywhere near.  
'Thorn?' Asked Noelfavrel tentatively.  
'Yes, what is it boy?' Asked Thorn, not turning his head from the entrance to the officer's club.  
'Have you seen Galzra anywhere?' Asked Noelfavrel.  
Thorn silently motioned with his head over to a corner where another Winchester was curled up alone, and sitting before it was Galzra.  
_I thought you were nervous around other dragons._ Said Noelfavrel in surprise.  
Galzra glanced back and saw Noelfavrel looking at her with his arms folded.  
She quickly said something to the other Winchester, before hurrying back over to Noelfavrel.  
'Sorry, but you were taking so long, and I wanted to ask someone whether we'd be seeing any battles or not, and Levitas was the only one who would talk to me,' explained Galzra earnestly.  
'Levitas?' Asked Noelfavrel in confusion.  
'That Winchester I was just talking too,' explained Galzra, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.  
'And?' Asked Noelfavrel, interested despite himself.  
'He says that he usually does the courier circuit, and he's never seen a single battle.' Said Galzra, not in the least bit disappointed.  
'Don't be surprised if it turns out we'll end up fighting, you're not exactly a normal Winchester now,' said Noelfavrel, indicating some of the small spines on her tail.  
Galzra looked at the spines in surprise, before glancing back at Levitas, then looking at Thorn.  
'If I'm changing into a dragon like Thorn or Saphira, do you think I'll be able to breath fire?' Asked Galzra.  
Noelfavrel shrugged.  
'You do know nothing like this has ever happened before, right? I've got as much idea on this as you do, and everyone else probably less.' He said.  
'Now, how about we go and see about getting you something to eat, shall we?' Asked Noelfavrel.  
Galzra nuzzled Noelfavrel affectionately, and purred deep in her throat.

**Well, that's another chapter down, so time for acknowledgements:**

**For Favouriting, I'd like to thank ****sim16****.**

**For reviewing, I'd like to thank ****Hideout Writer****, ****ZombieChick422****, and ****T2238****.**

**I apologise for the apparent slow speed of this chapter, but it's unavoidable.**

**If you're looking for an action-heavy story, I suggest looking in the Warhammer archive of this site under games.**

**On another note, I'd like to acknowledge thegriffin88, for being the first,**  
**second, and third person, respectively to flame one of my stories.**  
**Congratulations, all that shows is you are jealous and petty, and I found your**  
**three flames very amusing; Are you feeling threatened by the fact I'm doing an**  
**IC\Temeraire crossover?**

**And I think the fact you attacked my ideas and creativity suggests you're**  
**still sore that I called it how I saw it when I reviewed your sue-fic. Yes I**  
**said it.**

**Shoot me, I don't give a damn, and I don't care about YOUR opinion, I suggest**  
**you focus on your fic instead of slandering me and my fic.**

**And comparing me to Stephany Meyer? That is low.**

**And I think I've rambled enough for one chapter, so 'til next time.**

**No One-liners.**


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter IIXX

Changeling

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

Eragon flattened himself to Saphira's neck as she made a pass over the targets set up in the valley below and bathed them in flame.  
So far, they'd established that she could breath jets of fire up to nearly a hundred feet, before the ravening jets petered out.  
Now Celeritas had Saphira practicing hitting targets at this range.  
So far her efforts at accuracy were proving successful, but Eragon couldn't help but feel that his time would be better spent teaching Noelfavrel.  
He'd discovered the night before that he was nearly illiterate.  
Or alternately, trying to learn French; it stood to reason if he could understand their language, he might have an advantage in battle against them if he overheard an enemy captain giving orders.

Instead, he was flying with Saphira while she practiced.  
At the completion of the pass Eragon decided to make his complaint known.  
_Come on Saphira, until you've got a harness of your own there's not really much reason to be up here with you when I can be using my time more productively._ Said Eragon, _not that I wouldn't rather fly with you, but there are other things I could be doing while you do this._ Added Eragon quickly.  
_I agree, and these passes are too easy by far; I'd do better teaching Thorn and Temeraire._ Said Saphira, as she wheeled around and surged back the way she'd come, before bathing the practice target in fire, before banking into a tight circle, maintaining the inferno for a full minute before flying back towards the courtyard.  
'Impressive, you can keep breathing fire over an extended time?' Asked Celeritas when Saphira had landed.  
'For nearly three minutes at a time,' confirmed Saphira, as Eragon slid down from his saddle.  
'Master, I feel that I could use my time more effectively in the capacity of tutoring Noelfavrel; until you can outfit Saphira with a harness, my presence is superfluous; Saphira and I work equally well together or apart.' Said Eragon, as he stepped forward, meeting Celeritas' gaze levelly.  
'Is that so, Captain Bromsson?' Asked Celeritas dryly.  
'We have worked apart before, master, when Eragon and I were travelling, I usually had to hide and catch up at night, and I was instrumental in rescuing him, Murtagh and Arya from Gil'ead.' Said Saphira calmly, 'I am not so easily distracted from whatever task is before me that Eragon need be present whilst I learn these formations and manoeuvres; indeed, that was the mode of things under our former masters: Eragon would do his lessons under Oromis whilst I learned under Glaedr, we-'  
'-do not need-'  
'-any practice-  
'-flying together.' Finished Saphira.

'You know you were taking it in turns to speak just then don't you?' Asked Celeritas.  
Eragon blinked in surprise.  
'No, but that does end up happening after a while, it's a good thing though, it means Saphira and I are becoming better at working and acting as one, which means we have an advantage over any individual opponent.' Explained Eragon, privately congratulating Saphira for the idea to drive home to Celeritas that he didn't physically have to be there to learn Saphira's training as well.  
'Well then, there is a skill you'll have to pick up for when Saphira gets a full harness…' said Celeritas, adjusting his jade-studded torque.

* * *

Arya unlatched the carabiners on the harness she'd been given almost before the Winchester had the time he'd settled to all fours, she was already on the ground.'Thank you for your assistance, Captain Miller, Devastatio,' said Arya, inclining her head, both in thanks, and to conceal the ghost of an amused smile at the rather showy name Miller had bestowed on his quickly strode through to the other courtyard, stopped short, and regarded the scene before her with some amusement.

Out in the valley, Saphira was busy putting Temeraire and Thorn through an endurance exercise, involving hovering in place while carrying heavy boulders, while she herself practiced various passes, swoops, dives and other assorted manoeuvres she recognised from Powys' commentary on aerial formation combat.  
Galzra was being taught flag signals by a midwingman, who was changing the flag positions after having Galzra repeat the message that the flag positions meant.  
Meanwhile, on the cliff were Eragon, Murtagh, Noelfavrel and Laurence, all four of whom were labouring their way across the rock face, latching carabiners onto hooks as they went.  
Only, Eragon had lost his grip and was hanging from one of his straps, while trying to regain a handhold, and hook his other strap to the wall.

'Well, you did say you didn't need to be with Saphira to learn the manoeuvres, and wanted to move on, well, that is what you're doing isn't it?' Enquired Celeritas, regarding Eragon with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.  
'I was thinking more along the lines of sparring with Noelfavrel to help him improve his swordsmanship, or learn French, or something similarly useful; rock-climbing was _not _what I had in mind!' Called Eragon back, as he managed to regain a handhold, then attach the dangling strap to a hook.  
'If you will excuse me, wise one, but I have need of Eragon for the moment,' said Arya clearly, stepping from the shadows of the arch into the weak midday sunlight.  
'I don't believe we have met,' said Celeritas eyeing Arya curiously.  
'I am Arya, ambassador of Queen Islanzadì of the elves,' replied Arya, with a deep bow.  
'And what might you want Eragon for?' Asked Celeritas interrogatively.  
'Advice on a course of action involving a formation that is being founded to offer an answer to several formations the French have seconded to Galbatorix's forces,' replied Arya firmly.  
'Very well, Captain Bromsson, you're excused,' said Celeritas, motioning to Eragon, who disengaged his carabiners and quickly climbed down the wall a lot more deftly.  
'We will return shortly,' promised Arya, with another curt bow.

* * *

'How'd it go?' Asked Eragon, they were in the supply shed, sitting on a sealed crate that contained Angela's potion ingredients.  
'Well enough, these English are stretched as thin as we are, and they can only spare six dragons, four of them untrained, and a fifth unhatched, and only one dragon with any combat experience; but that's beside the point, I want your advice on whether this should be volunteer-basis or not, we're asking these people to leave their world for ours, and there's no guarantee they'll ever return after all,' said Arya.  
Eragon was silent a moment, and relayed the problem to Saphira.  
_What Arya says makes sense we cannot, _cannot_, afford unwilling allies who're likely to turn on us if it means they can come home._ Said Saphira.  
_So you think her idea is a reasonable one then?_ Asked Eragon.  
_Reasonable or not, it's the right thing to do._ Replied Saphira after a second.  
Eragon nodded slowly and relayed this to Arya.  
She sighed.  
'Very well, it'll mean a good deal of work for me, but I will have to personally deliver these orders to the Captains and crews, I doubt they'd believe it coming from anyone among their own ranks,' she said.  
'No, you should get whichever Admiral is there to ratify what you say, these English don't seem the type to doubt their commanders, or question them,' said Eragon, shaking his head.  
'True enough; now I'll leave you to get back to whatever you were doing before,' said Arya, standing to leave.  
'Practicing moving with those carabiner straps,' explained Eragon, 'the idea being so I get used to hooking the carabiners, should I have to move across Saphira's back when she gets a harness.'  
'How'd you end up dangling like that anyway?' Asked Arya curiously.  
Eragon blushed slightly.  
'I gripped that particular handhold too tightly and it crumbled to powder, so I lost my balance and fell,' confessed Eragon.

* * *

'That one is 'engage the enemy more closely,'' said Galzra, immediately as the midwingman before her held the flags in a new position.  
The midwingman changed the flag positions again.  
''Form up on signaller,'' said Galzra, stretching lazily.  
She'd memorised the flag signals already, and been mentally showing them to Noelfavrel while he scaled across the rock-face.  
Saphira had advised her against trying to fly with the others, as she was so small she was liable to be battered by the gusts of wind from their wings.  
She didn't really mind though, because the shoulders of her flying arms were rather sore for some reason, and she didn't really feel like flying.  
'Okay, now what's 'requesting assistance'?' Asked the midwingman.

* * *

Meanwhile Noelfavrel was hanging off the rock face, gritting his teeth at the pain in his shoulders.  
To make matters worse, it wasn't _his_ shoulders that were aching, but Galzra's, so there wasn't much he could do about it.  
As he unlatched one of his carabiners, and leaned across to latch it to another hook further along, his arms spasmed in sympathy to a spasm affecting Galzra's wings, causing him to involuntarily lose his grip on his handhold, and fall.  
It felt like the bottom of his stomach had just fallen away, then the carabiner strap still attached to the cliff-face snapped taut.  
He tried to get a grip on the wall again, but he couldn't, his arms just ached too badly.  
'Come on lad, keep it up, just across to the centre and back down again,' said Celeritas shook his head.'I can't, something's going on with Galzra's flying arms, and I'm feeling the effects as well, I can't make my hands work,' Called Noelfavrel back.A sudden drop in the harness made him look up, and see that the stitches attaching the carabiner and strap were fraying fell back on a curse he'd picked up on the _Red Boar_, glancing around , the only ones still on the wall besides him were Murtagh and Laurence.  
And they were both having some difficulty.  
The strap dropped again, as more stitches broke.  
'Uh…could someone give me a hand here?' Called Noelfavrel, trying desperately for a handhold, but his arms refused to obey his insistent desire for them to find a grip on the rock-face.  
_Snap!  
_The feeling of his stomach dropping away was more intense this time.  
'Rïsa!' Shouted Eragon, and immediately, Noelfavrel's fall was arrested, and he was lowered gently to the ground.  
'What happened?' Asked Eragon in concern as he released the spell and helped Noelfavrel to his feet.  
'Galzra's wings have been aching all day, and just before I fell, I felt a spasm down our link and lost my grip, I tried to get back on the wall, but my harness-strap broke,' explained Noelfavrel, showing the frayed and broken stitching.  
'If this link with Galzra is the cause of that, should we have cause for concern?' Enquired Celeritas.  
Eragon shook his head.  
'No, but I think we should have a look at Galzra, I noticed she was developing a row of spines down her back last night, and she's grown a bit, it wouldn't surprise me if these pains and spasms in her flying arms were another change,' replied Eragon.

* * *

'I have never seen anything like this,' admitted the dragon-surgeon, a man named Keynes, 'these extra joints that she's developing, if they go by the example given by that Imperial of Captain Laurence's, or your own dragon, she should be able to hover,' said Keynes, stepping away from Galzra and pacing.  
'What about those spines?' Asked Eragon, indicating one growing from Galzra's back.  
'Again, I've never seen anything like, I'll have to check with the breeders to see if her sire and dam had any sort of mutation, but I highly doubt it; I'm more inclined to put both changes down to this bond that these two have, a change that I assume is responsible for _your_ appearance,' replied Keynes with a perception Eragon couldn't help but be impressed by.  
'My conclusion when I noticed the spines was just that, the bond must be responsible, and you're correct, my appearance is the result of the bond I share with Saphira, but the change was accelerated by several decades during the elves' Agaeti Blödhren, or Blood-oath Celebration.' Answered Eragon with a nod.  
'Oh to the devil with whatever heathen ritual was responsible, I'm more interested with where this apotheosis will lead,' said Keynes, waving aside Eragon's explanation. 'For instance, do you think Galzra will gain the ability to breath fire?' Enquired Keynes, turning to look at Eragon, who was regarding him with a steely gaze.  
'Doctor Keynes, I have the good grace to refrain from commenting on your _beliefs_, you will do me the favour of showing a measure of respect for mine, Noelfavrel's, Murtagh's and Arya's _heritage_,' admonished Eragon in a tone that brooked no protest.  
'My apologies sir, I forgot myself there for a moment, but do you believe Galzra will be able to breath fire?' Asked Keynes again.  
'As a matter of fact, I think so,' said Eragon, gesturing to Galzra, who was coughing in surprise in a cloud of smoke she'd accidentally enveloped herself in when she'd heard Keynes had offered an insult to her rider.

'Well, if you're not the envy of every Captain here by day's end boy, I'll eat my equipment,' said Keynes after a moment, glancing at Noelfavrel, 'if it wouldn't be too much to ask, would you mind if I observed her growth? Such a thing has never happened before, and it would be of the greatest benefit if we could duplicate the results, and even better if we had some knowledge of the side-effects before hand,' Appealed Keynes.  
_If he ends up going with that formation, we should introduce him to King Orrin._ Joked Saphira to Eragon.

Noelfavrel was quiet for a while, focusing his attention on Galzra, who was likewise fixated on her Captain.  
'What are they doing, having a staring contest?' Asked Keynes quietly.  
'Telepathy, they're speaking in the privacy of their minds,' answered Eragon in the same undertone.  
Noelfavrel nodded slightly.

'If you must, but Galzra wants to know if there's anything you can do for the pain in her flying arms,' said Noelfavrel.  
'We could amputate.' Said Keynes, taking a scalpel from a workbench.  
Galzra snarled, and accidentally let loose another cloud of smoke.  
'I was joking, but I'm afraid not, an adult dragon in need of being knocked out for a while we might dose with opium, but a dragonet? I wouldn't risk it, not even for the most grievous injury.' Replied Keynes, replacing his scalpel, 'now, until your wings stop developing, I'd say it would be best if you didn't fly, and as for you lad, I suggest you don't continue with the carabiner training until after her wings have finished developing as well, we don't need you nearly dying like you did this afternoon,' said Keynes sternly.  
'Alright, but can I please have something to eat? I'm hungry again,' implored Galzra, looking hopefully at Noelfavrel.

'Didn't we feed you two hours ago?' Asked Noelfavrel in mock confusion.  
'Yes, but that was then, and this is now,' replied Galzra, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.  
'Hold on, she's been awake since everyone else woke up?' Asked Keynes in surprise.  
'Yes, why? Is that unusual?' Asked Noelfavrel.  
'Highly unusual my boy, dragonets only usually are awake long enough to feed, before they go off to sleep again during the first few weeks of their lives, and the interval between when they awake, and when they go to sleep gradually increases, and that sort of behaviour, and wanting to be fed only usually stops after they mature, she's dreadfully young for being able to spend this amount of time awake, let alone a full day.' Explained Keynes.  
'I don't want so much to sleep, but I do get so very hungry,' chimed in Galzra.  
'As you're going to be with Galzra until these changes have stopped, do you mind teaching Noelfavrel something of the habits of Winchesters? Celeritas is pressing me hard, and I only have so much time in which to teach Noelfavrel, and by my estimation, it's best used for practicing with the sword, and if you could teach him to read as well, It would be much appreciated.' Asked Eragon.  
'I can't read those bloody runes you use Captain, you'll have to teach him those yourself.' Replied Keynes.  
Eragon passed Laurence's cipher to Keynes.  
'Ah, yes, I think I can do that then,' said Keynes, comparing the two alphabets.

* * *

The training courtyard was near enough to empty when Arya came to see Celeritas.  
'Are any of the couriers heading for Edinburgh anytime soon?' Asked Arya, after Celeritas had acknowledged her presence.  
'Yes, why?' Asked Celeritas, eyeing Arya warily.  
'I am personally going to give Captain Richards the state of things with this new formation, before he accepts his orders, we do not need reluctant allies among the Varden, particularly reluctant allies capable of causing havoc if they don't like what they were ordered to without the full picture,' explained Arya.  
Celeritas nodded.  
'You're aware of the reputation of Captain Rankin?' Enquired Celeritas.  
'I am, and he can thank whichever deity he believes in that I have enough self control not to kill him, any other of my kind would; dragons are afforded great respect among my people,' replied Arya coldly.  
'He's heading that way on his courier run on Saturday, aside from him, only urgent messages come or go to there, so unless you're willing to go out of your way-'  
'No, I will tolerate him, and I may be able to solve the problem, this Winchester is blindly loyal, correct?' Asked Arya.  
'Yes- no, I see what you're thinking, and we do not allow it in the Corps,' said Celeritas sharply.  
'I'm not _in_ the Corp though am I?' Asked Arya.  
'It won't work, Levitas is blindly loyal, the only place I'd reckon that Winchester's eyes would clear and allow him to see Rankin for what he is, would be whatever lonely place Rankin leaves him when he's dying.' Replied Celeritas bitterly, settling himself down onto the warm stones.  
'The blind can be made see, magic has many uses, we can restore the sight of one who is blind, and I needn't be blatantly overt about it, it would only take a single blow to shake this Levitas' faith in Rankin, after that, doubt and a standing alternative would do the rest.' Replied Arya smoothly.  
'That is extremely devious,' remarked Celeritas, with a glimmer of amusement, 'I take it others of your kind are as sharp?' He asked.  
'Why are you so curious about Alagaësia?' Asked Arya in turn.  
'Oh, I'm just curious; from what you say of it, and from what small amount I've gleaned from that dispatch, and from that short time I was there, I think I'd rather enjoy living out the last of my days there, when these damn wars have been sorted,' Said Celeritas, nibbling at a scrap of meat caught on the side of a foreclaw.  
Arya bowed low again.  
'Thank you for your time.' She said, before walking away, ideas and thoughts whirling through her mind.

**I think I'll leave this here.**

**Thanks for this time around:**

**For Favouriting: ****GoldenMoon1997**

**For Reviewing: ****Hideout Writer****, ****T-2238****, RandomDragonFan, and ****ZombieChick422.**

'**til next time.**

**No One-liners.**


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter IXX

Of Edinburgh and Harnesses

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

The rest of the week took on a pattern:  
Eragon would rise early, perform the Rimgar, bath, eat in the dining hall with the other Captains, learn some aspect of the aviator's theory of aerial warfare whilst Saphira drilled Thorn and Temeraire, and practiced her own manoeuvres when Celeritas had them working on those alongside her erstwhile students, then lunched, and used what spare time there was afterward to spar with Noelfavrel to help him improve, and Arya to maintain his own skill-level.  
This prompted another visit from Celeritas, another torn scroll, and another oath from Murtagh.  
Celeritas had nearly been on the verge of banning the lot of them from using weapons altogether, until Eragon, fed up with the lecture, demonstrated the blunting spell on Brisingr's edge.  
Afterward, they only attracted a highly impressed audience of aviators and dragons.  
'How the hell'd you learn to fight like that?' Asked Sutton after one bout with Arya, a bout Arya had narrowly won by the expedient of a well placed kick.  
Eragon gave him a wry smile.  
'In a hard school under hard masters, I was bruises from head to toe for roughly two months before I started marking Brom back when I first started learning the blade, and that was with sticks.' Replied Eragon.  
'I'll bet it was rough when you started using a proper sword then.' Observed Sutton.  
'Yes, it was almost as bad as when I'd first started.' Said Eragon, before heading for the baths to relieve his aching muscles.  
No matter whether he was weary from the day or not, he and Saphira maintained their habit of flying merely for the sake of it, it was the best time to talk without being interrupted, and good for avoiding odd looks over telepathy as well.

Eragon also had the unlooked for fascination of many of the cadets, ensigns, and younger midwingmen.  
When Eragon raised the subject one evening after dinner with Berkley, the big man gave a wry chuckle.  
'You're fairly young by our standards for a dragon like Saphira, not that you had much choice by your own telling, but if you look at it from their viewpoint: you're around their age, you're a Captain, or the equivalent thereof, and then there's Saphira herself; damn, even _I'm_ impressed by her: she's a fire-breather, she can hover,-a trait not one person in the country, or any of the surrounding ones can claim to have even witnessed 'sides from Laurence,- and she can fly rings around practically every dragon in the Corps; it's a rare man in the Corps who wouldn't be envious, if not jealous.' Said Berkley in a tone that suggested he found Eragon's confusion in the matter amusing.

Eragon also noticed that Gringlok was drawing attention, mainly from Captains trying to get the dwarf to keep Ornthrond on a tighter leash, -Ornthrond had learned to be wary of Lily, who now knew how to fend off his mind-shriek, but he wasn't above trying to secure his dominion over the others with his abilities,- after the second day of this, Gringlok accompanied Ornthrond to the feeding grounds, and when Ornthrond went to start his latest bid for precedence over the others, Gringlok growled out something in dwarvish to him, then addressed the other dragons.  
'If Ornthrond keeps up 'is antics, tell yer Captains to let me know, and I'll 'ave words with this 'ere mongrel about it, so Ornthrond no more of this 'precedence' rot, wait yer turn,' Said Gringlok dangerously, directing the last bit at the Fanghur.  
If it had've been possible for him to blush, he would've been several shades darker.

Saphira, Ornthrond and Thorn were also measured for harnesses, a process Eragon paid close attention to, before reviewing the design, so that the harness wouldn't interfere with, -or be hampered by,- Saphira's armour.  
When protests were made by several harness masters, Eragon simply met their objections coolly.  
'What would you prefer: My alterations, or knowing your insistence on tradition had cost men their lives?' He asked.  
He was met by a grim silence as the men considered Eragon's words.  
'Exactly, this isn't me satisfying my ideals of aesthetic, or meddling ill-advisedly, I do have some idea of what I'm on about.' He added.  
'But sir, these alterations- we could practically make a harness for a full-grown Winchester with the leather this'll mean taking off, and using that saddle of yours as an anchor- it scarcely makes it worth while, we've seen Saphira flying, and if she twists about so, you'd need _more_ straps to be sure the whole lot doesn't fail, not _less_.' Protested the unofficial spokesman of the group.  
Eragon hesitated a moment.  
'I'll leave the problem up to you gentlemen then, I trust you'll find a solution that will be workable, and compromise durability and speed,' said Eragon, before dismissing them with a gesture.

* * *

The Saturday morning, Eragon arose early as usual, and descended to the kitchen, where he was surprised to find Laurence.  
They hadn't really spoken since Eragon had recommended giving Temeraire encouragement.  
'Morning Captain, what's got you up so early?' Asked Eragon, noticing the cooks,-ever sharp at their job,- had already set out a plate of eggs for him, with no meat, as per his preference.  
'I'm going up to Edinburgh with Captain Rankin, I've got affairs to put in order with the bank up there, and then I'm taking your advice and buying Temeraire something nice, what will you be doing today Captain? As I understand it, Saphira and Thorn are also being outfitted with harnesses,' Asked Laurence curiously.  
Eragon grimaced slightly at the thought of Rankin, he'd run into the man once after he'd humiliated the man, and found his initial judgement of him to be lacking:

For all his outward charm, Rankin's disdain wasn't reserved solely for dragons, as Eragon had discovered by several veiled comments criticising his treatment of Saphira, and several not-so-subtle comments of sheer arrogance, of Rankin's inherent superiority, for being born to an aviator family.  
Eragon had decided after the latter that Rankin deserved every misfortune coming his way, and proceeded to tell him exactly what he thought of him, before continuing on his way, rather satisfied with the sight of Rankin attempting to think of a suitable comeback.

'Probably just making observations with this harness, the only thing that the harness masters and myself can agree on is that to rig Saphira and Thorn out, we're going to have to modify the standard  
harness, aside from that, probably either reading, sparring with Noelfavrel, or reviewing the boy's reading, I know Keynes has been good to his word, but I still have to check, as his instructor,' Answered Eragon easily.  
'Oh yes, and you'll have an extra companion, Arya is heading that way as well,' remembered Eragon.  
'Really? But what could have piqued her interest?' Asked Laurence.  
'It isn't a matter of interest Captain, but a matter of business, Galbatorix has reinforced his army with formations of French dragons, and your Admiralty has consented to found a formation to give the Varden a fighting chance against any aerial assault Galbatorix might conceive to throw at us, that given, four of the dragons involved have barely begun their training, and one hasn't even hatched yet, but, they're still being sent; Captain Richards on a Parnassian called Victoriatus is being designated formation leader, I'm going along to Edinburgh to meet him and give him the full picture, the last thing the Varden needs are reluctant allies.' Explained Arya, as she sat down at the table and set to eating her own breakfast; somehow she'd managed to come across fresh fruit along with what the cooks had plied her with.  
'How ever did you manage to get them to go along with such a scheme? Dragons are valued beyond belief, and we're hard up for dragons as is, as you well know,' asked Laurence in astonishment.  
'Admiral Powys stated that all _active_ formations couldn't be spared, so naturally any formation not yet in existence could be sent to aid the Varden with no trouble, so long as the Captains, dragons and crew don't object.' Answered Arya simply, before finishing her food and rising.  
'Have a safe journey,' said Eragon. _And as much as you want to, don't kill Rankin; alive he is an affront to everything we believe in; dead he'll cause us no end of grief._ Added Eragon in a half-pleading tone.  
_Killing him is too kind, and besides, if I kill him I sow rancour between the Varden and British, if I merely convince his dragon that Rankin isn't worthy of loyalty…  
__You can just say that he abandoned Rankin for someone who appreciated him, and you can't very well be told to cease such efforts, because you're not technically under the purview of the aviators._ Completed Eragon, seeing just how calculated a move Arya was making.  
_It is a vile thing I do._ Admitted Arya as she reached the door.  
_But a necessary one I think._ She added as the door closed to behind her.

Eragon drained his tea himself and stood, practically at the same time as Laurence.  
'If you could do me a favour Mr. Broms-'  
'Just call me Eragon, Captain, I've never been addressed by my surname, and I don't intend to start pressing the matter, but go on.' Cut in Eragon before Laurence could finish.  
'Eragon then, do you mind making sure that the ground crews pay attention to what Temeraire tells them to adjust?' Asked Laurence.  
Eragon chuckled lightly.  
'Captain, they'll mind you more readily than me, and the request will carry more weight if you deliver it personally. Which considering, would probably be a smart move on your part,' replied Eragon, adding the last bit as an afterthought.  
Laurence frowned, and went to ask what Eragon meant, then thought better of it, and followed Eragon out into the courtyard.

* * *

It took all of Eragon's self-control,-and some he had to borrow from Saphira,- to keep himself from killing Rankin as he saw the man reading a newspaper as a small ground crew outfitted Levitas for their journey for Edinburgh, completely ignoring the little Winchester.  
Eragon knew it was Levitas, because he'd had to go and draw Galzra's attention away from talking to the older Winchester to focus on Saphira's lessons on three separate occasions, and had spoken with the Winchester on one of them.  
He'd recalled Admiral Peterson's description of Levitas' personality, and couldn't help but agree with the Admiral: Rankin was nowhere near deserving of Levitas' loyalty.  
So he found he really couldn't disapprove of Arya's plan. In fact, if possible, he'd covertly aid it.  
As Eragon went to see to it that Saphira was ready to be fitted with her harness, he left Arya and Laurence to Rankin, fervently praying,-to whom he knew not,-that if Rankin ended up dead, it would either be by Laurence's hand, or in a French attack.

* * *

Laurence stopped cold when he saw Rankin standing by Levitas while the small ground crew outfitted the little Winchester, reading a newspaper and paying Levitas no attention whatsoever.  
Suddenly, Eragon's taking offence to the man when he'd been introduced, the avoidance of the other aviators, and a host of other pieces he'd considered unrelated correlated together to form an unpleasant tableau.  
Eragon most certainly had taken instant dislike to Rankin through his habit of passive telepathy, picking up on the man's nature, and taking such violent offence to Rankin's disdain of dragons, and his lecturing Noelfavrel…  
With Eragon's high regard for dragons, regardless of breeds it was a testament to the young man's self-control he hadn't flayed Rankin to within an inch of his life.

Then there was Arya.  
The elf's ethereal beauty had kept Laurence from becoming too well acquainted with her, mainly because he became tongue-tied in the extreme around her, but he had gleaned from her that her race as a whole held dragons in the highest regard.  
Not even their _rulers_ would order a dragon to anything!  
So, even though he'd just discovered that there was not a chance that he could ever respect Rankin, he was a shade worried at what the she-elf might do to the man.

To cover his confusion, he went to Temeraire's side; there was no way he could avoid the journey now, not without being truly insulting.  
But he felt almost ill.  
As he petted Temeraire, and made him some assurances, more for his own comfort, he tentatively reached out with his mind,-Eragon had stayed true to his word, and had been teaching Laurence telepathy, a skill that he'd achieved a tolerable proficiency at,- and touched against Eragon's.  
He suppressed an involuntary shiver.  
Mostly human the young man might be, but his mind was vast, a product of the training and education he'd undergone.  
_Eragon?_ Asked Laurence tentatively.  
_Go Laurence, you can't back out now, and besides, if Arya does decide to kill Rankin,- not that I'd be sorry if she did,- it'd be best if someone was there to try talk her out of it; someone who can do so _without _Rankin knowing; and as everyone else hates the man, and has no business in Edinburgh, you're the only candidate._ Advised Eragon, not even having to hear the question.  
_Thank you sir_. Replied Laurence, with gratitude.  
_We won't hold it against you either, we all make mistakes, and you can always just not talk to him._ Added Saphira.  
_And thank you Saphira._ Replied Laurence, before breaking the contact.

He was in time to see Hollin leading the rest of Temeraire's new ground crew over.  
Now, Eragon's advice from just before they'd exited the dining hall made sense.  
Hollin had attended to Temeraire's harness, and Levitas with such good will, he'd spoken of him to Celeritas.  
As it was a promotion of considerable significance, there'd been some uncertainty in the matter.  
Although, from what he'd heard, there was downright contention to get on Eragon's or Murtagh's crews.  
And that had been _before_ they'd found out about the hovering and long-range fire-breathing.  
He nodded to the young man. 'Mr. Hollin, will you be so good as to present me to these other men?' He asked.  
When he had been given all their names and repeated them silently to himself to fix them in his memory, he deliberately met their eyes in turn and said firmly, 'I'm sure Temeraire will give you no difficulty, but I trust you will make a point of consulting his comfort as you make the adjustments. Temeraire, please have no hesitation about informing these men if you notice the least discomfort or restriction upon your movements.'  
Levitas' case had demonstrated to Laurence that some crewmen might neglect the gear of the dragon they were assigned to if a Captain wasn't watchful, not that he'd expected anything else.  
He had no fear of Hollin neglecting his work, but he meant to put them on notice that he would not tolerate any such neglect where Temeraire's comfort was concerned, Eragon's advice or no.  
If such severity set his reputation as a hard Captain, so be it. Perhaps in comparison to other aviators he was; he would not neglect what he considered his duty for the sake of being liked, even if he didn't mean to model himself completely off Eragon's or Murtagh's examples and tending to the gear by himself,-a habit he was sure they'd alter to helping with the maintenance, given how complex and large the harnesses were compared to their saddles.  
A murmur of 'Very good,' and 'Right you are,' came in response; he was able to ignore the raised eyebrows and exchanged glances.  
'Carry on then,' he said with a final nod, and turned away, with no small reluctance to join Rankin, who was fidgeting uneasily under Arya's imperious gaze.

All his pleasure in the expedition was gone, but it was perversely satisfying to watch Rankin squirm in Arya's presence.  
Her race's reverence, and respect for dragons was no secret, and privately, Laurence thought that Eragon, Murtagh, Saphira and Thorn had been spreading the titbit to make Rankin uncomfortable.  
If that was the case, it was obviously working.  
When Rankin motioned for Arya to mount-up first, Arya simply nodded in acquiescence, but when Levitas lowered himself onto his belly, so Arya might more easily climb onto his back, she made a point of complementing Levitas' kindness, even though she was capable of mounting Maximus with two bounds up his massive foreleg, an ability she'd demonstrated during an on-ground practice of boarding manoeuvres earlier in the week.  
When Laurence boarded, he followed Arya's example, and sat where his weight would give Levitas the least trouble.

* * *

Eragon watched as Levitas went aloft, and quickly flew north, vanishing behind the hills in mere moments.  
_He's quick._ Said Eragon.  
_Very, if Levitas is that fast we mightn't need to worry so much, they'll be at the city so quickly a chance at murder probably won't arise._ Agreed Saphira.  
Eragon's attention was drawn to the approaching ground crew.  
Unlike Laurence, Eragon hadn't gotten to know many of the ground crewmen, so Saphira's had been assigned mainly on the basis of their performance over the course of the week.  
Which Eragon had stated to all of them, would have to be exemplary to even be considered.  
He'd been rather amused to learn that every harness, buckle and scrap of leather in the workshops had been polished to within an inch of their existence by the previous evening.  
'Morning sir, Julian Murray, I've been assigned as the head of Saphira's ground crew,' said the lead man, a boy of roughly sixteen, with a wild halo of dark blonde hair, and intense blue eyes.  
Eragon noted he was attempting to cultivate a pair of sideburns, if the scraggy hair on his cheeks was any indication.  
'Good to meet you, and who are the rest of these men?' Asked Eragon, noting that one of the crewmen bristled slightly.  
There were only four of them, including Murray, but they were a motley lot, and he saw the reason for why one of them had bristled.  
'Okay, the guy on my right is Daniel Giles, the guy on my left is Terry Shields, and the lovely young lady glaring daggers at you is Theresa Lenton,' listed Murray, indicating each of them in turn.  
Each of them nodded slightly as they were introduced, and as Murray had said, Theresa was glaring daggers at him.  
'My apologies Theresa, I didn't-' Eragon hesitated, not wanting to sound insulting, he was stuck with her as part of his ground crew and he didn't mean to make enemies, 'mean to offend you.' He finished lamely.  
'At least you have the guts to apologise, unlike the last Captain I was under,' relented Theresa.  
'Alright enough of this, you're going to have to fit Saphira's harness twice today: once without her armour, and once with, so you may as well start now, Saphira won't give you any trouble, but mind what she tells you regarding her comfort in the harness, understand?' Asked Eragon.  
The four ground-crew members rose in Eragon's view as they stepped to their job without a word of complaint, and a chorus of confirmations.

* * *

The one good thing about the journey to Edinburgh was that it was quick.  
In a little over two hours, they arrived at the great, stone walled covert, watched over by the imposing Edinburgh Castle.  
Rankin had been mostly silent throughout the journey, and Laurence had been able to answer briefly to the few comments he made.  
He was very grateful for Arya's presence, which made these comments even sparser than they might've been.  
Also, Arya never made any move to draw her sword, or any concealed weapon, although Laurence knew that she could probably kill Rankin with little more than a gesture.  
She was a very powerful magician after all.

'Stay here quietly, I don't want to hear you've been pestering the crew when I return,' said Rankin when they'd dismounted.  
His sense of courtesy towards Arya seemed to have deserted him during the flight, along with his discomfort.  
'You can eat when we return to Loch Laggan,'  
'I do not wish to bother them, but I am very thirsty,' Levitas said in a small voice. 'I tried to fly as fast as I could,' he added.  
'It was very fast indeed, Levitas, and I am grateful to you. Of course you must have something to drink,' Laurence said;  
'Don't bother the crews, just bring that trough, and I will deal with the water,' said Arya quietly.  
'You crewmen, see to this harness, now!' Snapped Arya in an authoritative voice, and instantly, the ground crewmen lounging around the edge of the of the clearing snapped to attention and scrambled to do her bidding.

Laurence dragged the trough over, and noted that Rankin made no objection to either of them, although he gave Arya a wary eye.  
He'd obviously marked Arya's aura of command.  
'Adurna.' Said Arya simply, gesturing to the empty trough, and it instantly filled with cool, pure water.  
'Witchcraft…' Breathed Rankin, looking at Arya half revolted, half fearful.  
'No, magic; my power does not revolve around potions, herbs and rituals, it is simply the ability to sense magic in the world, and bend it to my will. Eragon and Murtagh possess the same ability.' Clarified Arya in a tone as if she were addressing a school child who'd misunderstood what the teacher had said.  
'It doesn't matter what it is, it is the power of the devil!' Snapped Rankin, taking a step towards Arya.  
Arya looked Rankin directly in the eyes, causing him to stop dead.  
'According to your beliefs maybe. According to the laws of nature, it is a power that those with the ability, the will and the skill to use it, can achieve things that are impossible by physical means; granted though, there are aspects of magic that should never, under any circumstances, no matter the intention behind them, be used.' Replied Arya, still in the same school teacher tone.  
Rankin subsided after a moment.  
'And if it makes you feel anymore comfortable Captain Rankin, the people of Alagaësia have been using magic for nearly three thousand years, we know what we're doing.' Added Arya seriously.  
'Now, I bid you both a good day, my errand here shall not take long, I will be waiting for your return Captain Rankin.' Said Arya, before striding off in the direction of the covert headquarters.  
She paused and turned.  
'Oh yes, and I may seek your services again in the future, Levitas has brought us here in excellent time, and I have need of a reliable courier over the next few days, you will be able to be of assistance, yes?' Asked Arya.  
Rankin licked his lips, obviously conscious how rude and uncouth he'd appear should he refuse outright.  
'We shall see Lady Arya, I may be busy these coming days, and as you're probably aware, dragons form a strong attachment to their Captains, I doubt he would consent to bear you if it meant separation from me, it is in a dragon's nature after all.' Said Rankin carefully.  
'Can we please help Lady Arya? she is so very kind,' Piped up Levitas eagerly.  
Rankin looked as if someone had just clobbered him with a rotten, month-old carp.  
'We shall see,' he said in a mechanical tone.

* * *

Arya privately celebrated her minor victory.  
She knew she had no real hope of stealing Levitas away from Rankin; however, she did hold a hope that she could use the possessive instincts prevalent among the dragons she'd seen in this world so far to nurture the beginnings of a friendship at least.  
Watching Rankin squirm in discomfort around her was as good as rebuking him with blows, and a lot more satisfying because it was longer lasting.  
And who knew, maybe if she treated Levitas as a friend, rather than as a servant like Rankin, the Winchester would defect to her of his own accord.  
It was devious, subtle and would more than likely work.  
Seventy years as an ambassador had honed Arya's skills with subtle ploys to near unsurpassed sharpness.

She pulled herself back to the present as she rapped on the door to the admiral's office.  
'Come in,' said the admiral.  
'Good morning, Lady Arya I presume?' Enquired the Admiral.  
Arya noticed that the Admiral was resolutely focusing on a point between her eyebrows, avoiding eye contact, or looking at her as a whole.  
'Indeed, well met Admiral I trust you received a missive regarding Captain Richard's new assignment?' Asked Arya.  
'Yes, I received the news, and I've heard the rumours making the courier circuit, and frankly, I don't believe a word of it, it's just too far-fetched to be true,' said a man standing in a dress uniform at the side of the room.  
Arya glanced at him, taking in his comparative bulk, weather beaten visage, and watery blue eyes.  
'Captain Richard Clark, on Victoriatus, I've been over your missive probably around fifty times in the past couple of days, Lady Arya, and all I have to say is, you really should be writing novels, I haven't read any other fiction half as good before,' said Clark formally.  
Arya gave Captain Clark a thin smile.  
'Well, I have come to fill you in on the whole of the situation, but first of all the orders that came with my missive are genuine, and completely serious, however should you find anything in your assignment disagreeable speak up now, the Varden don't need reluctant allies.' Said Arya, also in a deadly serious voice.  
'If you will indulge me, ambassador,' said the Admiral, leaning forward and propping his chin on interlaced fingers, 'I read Captain Clark's orders and your missive as well, and well…it is a little sensational, I mean magic? Another world? Dwarves, Elves and demons? You'll have to forgive me for doubting you but it is a little too fantastic for it to be true, right?' Asked the Admiral.  
Arya flicked her hair in an unconscious gesture of exasperation over her shoulder, revealing a pointed ear.  
Clark and the Admiral gave each other a stunned look.  
'Rïsa,' said Arya calmly, indicating the admiral's desk, and the desk rose from the floor, hovering a foot in the air, rotating in a complete circle, then alighting once more on the floor.  
The two men looked stonily at Arya.  
'Alright, let's hear it, then I'll give you my answer as to whether I'll lead this formation,' said Clark wearily, taking a seat.

Over the course of the next hour, Arya briefed Clark on everything she felt he needed to know about the Varden's situation, Alagaësia, and the riders, without embellishment, including the Fall nearly a century before.  
After she'd completed her account, Arya watched Clark carefully.  
At her request, the Admiral had left the room, which Arya had subsequently proofed against eavesdroppers.  
'I'm still not quite sure I believe you,' stated Clark evenly, 'but, about that rebellion against your riders, were there any survivors?' Asked Clark.  
Arya shook her head.  
'The only survivors we knew of were the dragons of the Forsworn, reduced to mere beasts from being stripped of their sentience, Galbatorix and Shruikan, Brom, Oromis and Glaedr, and the three eggs, two of which are now hatched, if any other dragons, or any other riders escaped the slaughter, then it would be news indeed to us,' said Arya sadly, 'and of those I just listed, only Galbatorix, Shruikan and the three dragons from those eggs are still alive,' she added.  
Clark massaged the back of his neck, for a moment.  
'Well, the magic proves some of your story, but how do I know you're telling the truth about this other world?' Asked Clark.  
Arya gave Clark a level glance.  
'You'll just have to take my word for it until you get there, I could show you with magic, but you're just as likely to assert I could simply conjure up any image I choose, even though in practice it isn't that simple,' replied Arya simply.  
Clark sighed, unconvinced.  
'Well, you've given me the picture of you're resistance's predicament, and I wouldn't give a ha'penny for them if they were hit with an aerial bombardment, and I've been given my orders; I'll do it, but this whole affair had better not be some sort of joke or propaganda exercise,' warned Clark.

* * *

Afterward, Arya was left with little else to do but wait for Rankin to return, as Clark insisted on talking to his crew and his dragon himself.  
She wandered back to Levitas' dusty clearing, and found the little Winchester with his tail curled about himself, looking tired, lonely and miserable.  
Arya glanced around, but there was no sign of any food, and the ground crew had split for parts unknown.  
'How do you put up with him?' Asked Arya from the edge of the clearing.  
Levitas glanced up at the sound of Arya's voice.  
'He is my Captain, what else can I do? and he only wants to be sure I can make the most of very little so its for my own good, are you okay?' Asked Levitas in concern of the last point, as Arya sat against the bole of a tree and took a moment to regain her composure.  
'I'm fine.' Replied Arya, 'which is more than I can say for your captain if I haven't got a hold on myself by the time he returns.' Added Arya darkly.  
'I won't let you hurt him,' replied Levitas, standing.  
Arya gave the Winchester a small smile.  
'I can see you are loyal to the end to him, but tell me: when you see the other dragons being treated as friends by their Captains, then consider your own treatment at your captain's hands, what do you feel?' Asked Arya curiously.  
Levitas was silent for a while.  
'I feel as if I'm not good enough for my captain, that he envies the other captains, and that I can't ever hope to live up to my captain's expectations,' he said at last, and looked all the more miserable for it.  
Arya's vision flashed red, and she had to take another minute to get herself under control.  
The only other being she'd _ever_ wanted to kill so badly was Durza, but Rankin was bidding fair to usurping the shade from that position.  
Arya glanced at Levitas, and noticed the little dragon looking even more miserable than when she'd entered the clearing at the realisation.  
'Hey, if your captain doesn't appreciate that you're trying your absolute hardest to live up to his expectations, and your own ability, and still doesn't appreciate you, do you really think he's worth your loyalty?' Asked Arya, her original plan flying out the window.  
Levitas was silent.  
'I know what you're trying to do, and I won't do it; I can't do it,' said Levitas, looking slightly hurt at having guessed at what Arya was trying.  
Arya sighed.  
'Very well, I know better than to argue with a dragon anyway.' Said Arya, 'just remember: there are those who appreciate you, and should you wish to talk, I am willing to listen,' said Arya.  
Levitas nodded slightly.  
'Just don't try and convince me to abandon my captain, alright?'

* * *

Saphira shrugged her shoulders as her new ground crew removed the harness.  
'That harness is nowhere near as comfortable as a saddle,' said Saphira, before settling herself on the ground and regarding the four ground crewmen carefully. 'But it is more comfortable than I thought it would be, and perhaps if you put some padding around the edges of the straps that problem would be resolved,' suggested Saphira.  
'I'll see what I can do,' promised Shields, the leatherworker.  
'Well done, I can see you've earned your positions, keep up the good work,' said Eragon with sincerity, he had no notion as to what they were payed, and he had no money of his own, besides the small amount left from when he'd been travelling through the empire, so he couldn't afford to augment their pay, so high praise was all he could give.  
'Don't thank us yet, this is just a rough fit,' said Theresa, as the four of them gathered up the harness, 'it should look something special by tomorrow or Monday though,' she said as they moved off towards the work sheds.

_What did you think?_ Asked Eragon.  
_They were attentive to what I said, and acted on it, and they seemed to know their work._ Replied Saphira, as she stood and stretched cat-like.  
_My thoughts as well, from where I was standing, they looked to be going about their work very well indeed._ Agreed Eragon.  
_And what were you doing those times you left?_ Asked Saphira curiously.  
_Mainly checking in on Noelfavrel, and one time Celeritas wanted to see how good a shot I was with one of those black-powder weapons of theirs._ Replied Eragon.  
_And how did you go?_ Asked Saphira.  
_Those pistols are an easy enough weapon to hit a target with, easier than with a bow, but the amount of time it takes to reload, and how fiddly the process is, I think I'll just stick with the bow, I could empty my quiver, and hit every target I shot at in the amount of time it takes them to aim, fire and reload one of those pistols._ Said Eragon dismissively.  
_And in the meantime, Noelfavrel is coming along well, so far he can manage a line or two before he needs help, but he's improving._ Continued Eragon.  
_Galzra is growing restless, the changes in her flying arms are still paining her, but she yearns to fly, I think we should let her try soon, before she tries herself, and ends up injuring herself._ Added Saphira from her own observations throughout the day.  
_We've got time,_ _and the dragons in this formation of Arya's shouldn't start arriving until Monday, so we can let her try tomorrow._ Said Eragon thoughtfully.  
The sound of wings interrupted them, and they glanced up to see Levitas flying back into the courtyard.  
When the Winchester touched down, and Arya, Rankin and Laurence had disembarked, Eragon watched as Arya bowed low to Levitas, then straightened and addressed Rankin coldly, before walking away to join Eragon.  
'How did it go?' Asked Eragon.  
'Fine, Captain Clark, Victoriatus and their crew should be here midday tomorrow, and I'm heading to Blackpool tomorrow to see the Captain of this Yellow Reaper hatchling, and the day after that, I'm heading to Liverpool to see the Captain of the Chequered Nettle hatchling, and from there heading to Dover to requisition this Sharpspitter crossbreed, dispatches have already been sent, so it should be little trouble.' Said Arya, looking extremely weary.  
Eragon knew she was omitting something.  
'Arya, I've known you long enough to know when you're holding something back; what is troubling you?' Asked Eragon.  
Arya met Eragon's gaze with one that would've pierced someone unused to it.  
'If I have to keep dealing with this Rankin character, without giving him my views on his treatment of Levitas, I am going to kill him.' Said Arya seriously.

**And on that ominous note, I'll leave that there.**

**I think I'll skip the hum-harring that explanation is going to take, and thank god that canon-chapter is over!**

**So, thanks for this time around:**

**For reviewing, I'd like to thank: RandomDragonFan, Hideout Writer, ZombieChick422, and T2238.**

**Well, 'til next time**

**No One-Liners!**


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter XX

Scouting Run

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

**Author's Note: If you haven't heard of a dragon or character in this chapter, and the name sounds French, assume anything said is French, unless otherwise specified.**

Sanguinora settled herself more comfortably.  
It was chilly, up here on this hidden little ledge up in the mountains, but she could enjoy the fact that for the day, she could enjoy the company of her captain, Rafale Lefevre.  
They were watching a city far below, noting patrol routes, places of activity, patrols setting out and returning.  
And later, they'd be watching to see how these rebels reacted to an aerial scout.  
'Careful, precious,' chirped Sanguinora anxiously in French as Rafale leaned a little further out over the ledge, watching through his spyglass as a patrol stopped on top of a wooded hill.  
'Oh stop worrying Sango, I'm not about to fall off the cliff,' said Rafale in irritation, also in French.  
From what Henri Petard had told him, the rebels in the city mainly avoided the mountains, due to their evil reputation, a reputation that also kept their new comrades away.  
Which made it a perfect route for a surprise attack, but they had to be sure that the rebels weren't watching the mountains.  
Which was why he and Sanguinora were in the mountains to start with.  
'Here, quite up, and stay low, here comes our first scout,' said Rafale in a hushed voice in English , something he only did if he wanted to talk privately with Sanguinora, who he'd taught the language, or if it was important.  
_We probably should start with Latin or Italian now, our allies speak English after all…_ Thought Rafale absently.

* * *

Roran and his patrol,-which consisted of his three regulars, Carn, Yarbog and Harald, along with five other men and the elf Kiri,- took up a position on top of a wooded hill, and set about fashioning an observation post.  
It had been two days since Nasuada had garnered a promise of six dragons from the British, but it would be at least a week before the promised dragons could be gathered, so until then, they were on the defensive.  
Nasuada had dispatched six of Eragon's guards to Aroughs to try and expedite the breaking of the siege, while the other six remained in Fienster.  
She'd also ordered watches to be set at six locations around the city's perimeter, to give prior warning in case Galbatorix sent any of the Frank's dragons to assault the city.  
They'd only been working for two minutes at clearing the brush, when Kiri gave a cry.  
'Here comes one now, be ready!' Called Kiri.  
'How long?' Called Roran back.  
'By the speed this dragon is flying at, I'd say he'll be overhead in fifteen minutes!' Called Kiri back.  
Roran hesitated for a moment.  
'Carn, I need to speak with Nasuada, can you maintain a scrying spell for a couple of minutes?' Asked Roran urgently of the spellcaster.  
In response, Carn wordlessly set up a small mirror in the fork of a tree, and voiced the scrying incantation.  
The mirror blacked over, then cleared, revealing Nasuada going over the most recent batch of reports.  
'My lady,' said Roran, calling Nasuada's attention to her mirror.  
'Roran, what's happened?' Asked Nasuada, glancing at the scrying mirror.  
'Kiri has spotted a dragon heading for the city, shall we test if we can stop it?' Asked Roran.  
'Naturally, if we don't test this tactic we don't know if it will work; proceed, and I'll send reinforcements to your position on the off chance you're successful,' Replied Nasuada matter-of-factly.  
With that, Roran bowed, and Carn terminated the spell.  
As Carn took a moment to catch his breath, Roran looked into the canopy above, and spied Kiri sitting lightly out on one of the upper branches of an old oak tree.  
'I know the plan Stronghammer, just be sure you and your men are ready to take this dragon's rider and any crew when I've brought them down,' called Kiri.  
Roran blinked in surprise; as a habit, he kept his mind guarded, and yet Kiri had answered the question he had been going to ask anyway.  
'How'd you do that? I'm shielding myself!' Called Roran.  
'Lucky guess Stronghammer,' called Kiri back.  
Roran could've sworn there was amusement in the young elf's tone, and it wouldn't have surprised him to learn that the elf had an impish smile on his face.

* * *

Amitius was flying high.  
Higher than he usually flew, but he was trying to avoid detection by rebel sentries, so he was flying pretty much above the cloud layer.  
Luckily, the clouds were fairly patchy, so he could see where he was in relation to the city he was supposed to be observing without having to duck back through the clouds every few minutes.  
_Skulblaka, flauga eom du deloi un onr shur'tugal weohnata néiat waíse haino._ Said a voice in Amitius' mind.  
The Chasseur Vocifere glanced back at his Captain with concern.  
'Did you hear something?' Asked Amitius, trying to sound casual.  
'We're a thousand feet up, what is there to hear besides the wind and the cries of raptors?' Asked Pierre Champion, Amitius' captain curiously.  
_Skulblaka, flauga eom du deloi un onr shur'tugal weohnata néiat waíse haino._ Said the voice more firmly this time.  
'That time I heard it.' Said Pierre worriedly, gripping his cutlass.  
Then he cried out in pain, and slumped against Amitius' back.  
_Letta flaugaina, ei onr shur'tugal deyjr!_ Threatened the voice, and instantly, Amitius locked his wings and began to descend, towards the base of a wooded hill that he saw in his mind.  
He knew that the voice meant that if he didn't land, it would kill his captain, so he complied.  
He didn't know how he knew what the voice meant, but he knew, and he knew the voice meant what it said, so he complied, and flew as fast as he could for the base of the hill, where he saw a group of people waiting, all of them armed.

* * *

Snowfire pawed the ground nervously as the dragon descended towards them, but stayed where he was; he was too used to Saphira to fear them like the other horses.  
Roran had to admit, whatever Kiri had done, it was working.  
The dragon coming towards them, was definitely no Saphira.  
Smaller than her by more than half,-by Roran's estimate, he'd be able to look it in the eye from atop Snowfire's back,- and lacking her spines, it's colouration was a dark, woody-brown, with red patches along the leading edges of it's wings, and with a mottling pattern of grey-and-white along it's flanks.  
It landed before the group, and crouched, growling menacingly, before saying something in a language none of them had ever heard before.  
'Now, stay there while we bring your rider down, if you don't he dies,' said Carn in the ancient language, as the five men with pikes closed in to be sure the dragon had no room to take off.  
For good measure Yarbog, who'd acquired a glaive from the armoury before they'd left, very obviously, placed the blade of the weapon against the rider's throat.  
Kiri's spell was still in effect, and the rider,-who couldn't have been more than fifteen years old,- was still wobbling in the straps in evident discomfort, and disorientation.  
They'd pulled lots before the dragon had begun it's descent, and Roran had drawn the short straw.  
He dismounted Snowfire, and moved the horse off a ways.  
He didn't mean to see the noble horse laid low by a dragon.  
Then, he cautiously approached the dragon, and very cautiously moved to it's side.  
It went to raise a paw, but a warning grunt from Yarbog, and the urgal's shifting his grip on the glaive caused the little dragon to set his paw down again and growled unhappily.  
Now Roran quickly clambered up the dragon's forelimb, and severed the straps of the rider's harness, before relieving him of his black-powder weapon, which he stuck through his belt, careful to point it away from himself, then relieving the boy of his cutlass, which he threw down to Harald, who deftly caught it one handed, and tested it's weight.  
'A descent blade this is,' said Harald, before giving it an experimental swing, 'but give _me_ a normal blade any day, and you can keep the basket hilt.' He added.  
'My kind of blade, at least you can block with your hand without risking your fingers.' Replied Roran.  
'You're welcome to it then Stronghammer,' said Harald, attaching the sword to Roran's belt.  
Roran quickly handed the boy off to one of his other men, who proceeded to bind the boy's hands, while Roran took the man's place in the spear-corral.  
'Now, follow us on the ground, stay in the middle of our guard, and do not try anything, or your rider dies,' Ordered Carn, again in the ancient language.  
At Roran's command, the men formed two lines around the little dragon, before half of them went back into the trees, and returned leading the horses, which eyed the dragon warily, but they'd obviously been assured by Kiri that the little dragon wouldn't harm them, because the men had no trouble mounting up in it's presence.

* * *

They were met on the opposite side of the hill by their relief column, sent just as Nasuada had promised.  
'So, the elves _can_ talk dragons out of the air, eh?' Asked the commander of the relief column.  
'I think it was more along the lines of blackmail, but it worked either way, sorry if there's still underbrush on the hilltop, these two showed up before we could clear the brush properly.' Said Roran apologetically, motioning to the dragon, who was looking very unhappy, and looking anxiously at his rider, who was tied into his saddle on a horse behind the dragon, with Yarbog watching on the boy's right, and Carn holding a knife to the boy's throat from horseback on his left.  
He said something in his native language, in a reassuring tone, and the dragon nodded, unhappily.  
Roran frowned.  
He'd never heard the language before, but in parts it sounded vaguely like the common tongue.  
'Alright, let's get back to the city.' Said Roran, spurring his men towards the city.  
Privately, he hoped that their new aerial foes didn't have any bigger dragons with them.  
Thanks to the little one they were walking back into the city, Roran couldn't help but feel vulnerable.  
If a dragon around Saphira's size, or even a bit smaller,-fire-breather or not,- attacked them, Roran didn't think they'd make it.

* * *

'What the hell was Amitius thinking? Landing right in front of them like that,' Asked Sanguinora shaking her head in condemnation of the Chasseur Vocifere's action.  
He'd been flying practically level with their position, above the cloud layer, but straight at the city, not bothering to hug the cover of the clouds, flying straight through the clear patches of sky.  
Obviously he'd been spotted by a sentry, and had his mind invaded by a magic user he'd been unable to keep was the only explanation the juvenile Poux-De-Ciel could conceive of why he'd just meekly landed in front of a patrol and allowed his captain to be taken.  
'The rebels are onto us, but how did they find out?' Wondered Rafale aloud.  
As far as he'd been told, the rebels thought dragons on the brink of extinction, and only had a single fire-breather.  
He hadn't seen any evidence of it in or around the city, but that didn't mean it wasn't still around.  
Rafale looked at a pocket watch he'd been given by Captain Petard before they'd left that morning.  
'Sango, we've got to go and report back now, you remember the route right?' Asked Rafale.  
Sanguinora huffed, mock-offended.  
'Do you have so little faith in me Rafale?' She asked with great dignity.  
'I'll take that as a 'yes' then.' Muttered Rafale under his breath, before walking back along a small defile caused by run-off from the previous spring, leading back to a small dark pool in a clearing large enough for a dragon up to the size of a large light-weight to land and take off easily in.  
Rafale quickly scrambled onto Sanguinora's back, and barely managed to clip his carabiners onto her harness before she'd leapt into the air.

**I originally intended this to be one loooong chapter, but then, where's the fun in that?**

**So, I'll cut this off here, and pick this up a few hours afterward.**

**Also, a special mention to anyone who knows what was said in the ancient language there.**

**Hint: You can find all the words in the lexicons in the back of the IC books, but you have to have all three, and the third one is slightly altered versions of the words.**

**So, thanks this time around:**

**For Story Alerting: dragonshina**

**For Reviewing: Hideout Writer, ZombieChick422, dragonshina and T-2238.**

**So, I should have the next part posted soon.**

**Probably later tonight.**

'**til then:**

**No One-liners.**


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter XXI

Night Raid

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

Roran sighed as he pulled off his bracers, and discarded the cutlass he'd taken from the rider they'd captured earlier.  
They'd escorted the pair into the city proper, before presenting them to Nasuada.  
Afterward, Roran and his men had been dismissed, although he, his men and the cat over in the alley knew that the little dragon was now sitting rather disconsolately in the courtyard in front of the castle.  
His rider was confined under guard in the castle, under the watchful eyes of the Nighthawks.  
As Roran had suspected, the rider was little more than a boy,-barely fifteen,- and had been sent as a scout.  
Or at least, those were the facts that had been gleaned by Trianna, when she'd looked through his memories.

He cast a loving glance at Katrina, and wordlessly took her hand.  
What mattered if Galbatorix had torn a hole in reality and produced legions of dragons and riders to fight for him? What did that matter when he sat beside the woman he loved most in the world, and these dragons still so far distant, and the only testament to their existence a small scout, taken without a single drop of blood being spilled?  
'How was your day?' Asked Roran quietly as he lay down, and looked up at the roof of the tent, allowing some of the tension of the day to ease.  
'The same as ever, I worried for you, I took care of what work there was to be done, and just now I felt relief that you have returned unharmed again, and I heard you were the one to capture that rider that you brought in this afternoon,' replied Katrina, looking down at Roran with a small smile.  
'We drew lots,' said Roran modestly, 'I drew the short straw.' He added with a small smile.  
Katrina smiled in turn, and kissed Roran sweetly.  
'You make it sound so easy,' said Katrina, as she straightened and flicked her hair out of her eyes.  
'It was, with Yarbog, Carn, Harald and the other men keeping that dragon from any mischief, and Kiri keeping that boy disoriented, the dragon just stood there and let me take him, and the rider himself was in no state to offer resistance,' explained Roran, again in the same modest tone.

Certainly, he was becoming a figure of legend in the Varden.  
Roran Stronghammer: Cousin of Eragon Shadeslayer, Rouser of Carvahall, Palancar Pirate, Bane of the Ra'zac, Slayer of the Twins, The-man-who-beat-an-urgal-in-single-unarmed-combat; He deserved some credit for these deeds, but through a lot of the trials that had earned him the epithets, he'd had help: Eragon and Saphira had helped him kill the Ra'zac, he hadn't been the only one to pirate the _Dragon Wing_, and he was inclined to put killing the Twins down to luck, if they'd been paying attention, they surely would have found him.

'Oh, Roran,' said Katrina with a touch of amusement, and giving him a warm smile. 'Take some pride for once, you brought in a _dragon rider_, a dragon rider who fights on the behalf of Galbatorix.' She elaborated, smoothing a strand of hair away from her husband's forehead.  
A knock on the pole at the front of the tent called their attention to an out-of-breath runner.  
'Sorry,' he said, with a note of true apology in his voice, 'Stronghammer you're wanted quickly, we've just received some troubling information,' said the runner.  
Roran glanced at Katrina.  
'Go,' she said, motioning to the tent flap.  
Roran stood and buckled on the cutlass he'd acquired earlier that day, before jamming his hammer through his belt, then he set off, as Katrina saw to giving the messenger a cup of tea while he caught his breath.

* * *

'A night raid? They're going to hit us with a night raid _tonight_?' Said Roran in shock.  
'Can we recall Eragon to see this off? Do we have any information on numbers? Do we have anything on the dragon they're going to use?' Rattled off Roran urgently.  
Nasuada held up a hand, cutting off the stream of questions.  
'I've already requested Eragon's assistance, but it appears time flows differently between these two worlds, when I contacted them, Eragon was in the middle of whatever training they're putting him through there, and Arya was away going to brief one of the Captains assigned to one of the dragons we've been promised; Murtagh was there, but we can't very well ask his help, and the trans-world spell requires two spellcasters on either side to work anyway, so we're on our own.' Explained Nasuada.  
'As for information, Angela gave us _that_ in spades, she's been studying various books in that world of dragon lore, and the French have a breed known as the…Flur de Nit…' Nasuada stumbled over the pronunciation.  
'_Fleur de Nuit,'_ corrected the rider they'd captured that afternoon, pronouncing the name slowly.  
'Thank you,' said Nasuada with a slight, stiff nod, 'regardless, they're a heavy-weight breed; they're nocturnal by nature, and have good night-vision,-better than Saphira's by the accounts,- and fully grown, they're larger than Saphira currently is,- nearly twice her size; however, they can't breath fire, although with this cloud-cover, it's dark blue colouring would probably mean it'd want to keep any fire guarded anyway to make better use of stealth,' listed Nasuada.  
'Do we have a plan?' Asked Roran.  
Nasuada gave him a savage smile.  
'Lure it to the heart of the city and use it's greatest asset against it.' Replied Nasuada.

* * *

'Trés bien Rafale trés bien, this confirms that these rebels do not expect an attack from the mountains.' Said Henri Petard eyeing Rafale approvingly.  
'I can't believe they took Champion so easily, and Amitius too no less,' Continued Petard, a little more low.  
'It was a sight sir, Amitius was flying normally if a bit carelessly in regard to stealth, then all of a sudden he just dived straight into the arms of a rebel patrol, and sat there meek as milk as they took his captain, then lead him on foot into the city,' elaborated Rafale recalling the scene with disquiet.  
Petard grunted.  
'You've been applying the mindguard like you were shown?' He enquired.  
Rafale nodded emphatically.  
'Sanguinora as well sir I've made sure she minds the risk, and I've been minding it as well.'  
_After that incident at any rate._ Added Rafale silently.  
Petard nodded again, pleased.  
'Well Captain Lefevre, I hate to do this,-particularly after your exemplary performance this afternoon,- but I'm having you and Sanguinora guide Valuré and Captain Mattencourt to the city through the mountains; you know the route, they don't. And if that fire-breather is waiting in the wings, I want a sentry, we don't want to lose a Fleur de Nuit to a mauling or magic because there weren't enough eyes on the lookout for trouble.  
Rafale looked like he wanted to protest.  
'Captain, I'm doing this because Sanguinora is the only other lightweight in our formation, I'd meant to send Champion and that reckless Chasseur Vocifere of his, but obviously I can't do that now, and you're the only other one I have to ask,' said Petard steadily.  
'As you will sir,' said Rafale reluctantly, before Petard dismissed him.  
He quickly walked to the part of the camp that'd been set aside for Sanguinora and Amitius to land in for the flights Petard was inclined to make for liaison with the empire soldiers.  
Petard wordlessly joined them a few moments later after bidding his goodbyes for the day to the commander of the camp, before Sanguinora sped them back to their camp, a mile south.

Rafale muttered in a fury as Sanguinora banked through the mountains, with a steel ring around the base of her tail reflecting the starlight: A beacon for the lumbering Valuré.  
The great Fleur de Nuit like the rest of his breed possessed incredible night-vision, but flying through the mountains he needed a light to follow so as not to fly head-first into a mountainside.  
_This is so typical!_ Fumed Rafale. _Champion and Amitius get into trouble and Sango and I have to cover their collective ass, and Sango has already flown this route twice today, and now she's flying it a third time into a fight! Champion, if you get out of that mess you owe us so bad…_ Rafale continued his silent rant, indulging in some truly vile invective as Sanguinora guided them through the vales and around a final peak out over the coast, a bare thirty miles north-west of the city.  
The sky was cloudy, the moon was a crescent of silver light, and the conditions were perfect for a Fleur de Nuit to reap bloody havoc on an unsuspecting target.

* * *

Roran crouched in the tower of the keep near a window watching intently north.  
Many storeys below, from the ground hall to the cellars the populace of Fienster and many of the Varden's womenfolk and children were taking shelter.  
In the fortifications of the keep were many of the Varden's soldiery:  
Archers, scouts, pikemen, and magicians were waiting for the word to emerge and unleash hell on their attacker and take yet another dragon, which they'd been informed by Angela they could hand to the British for a not-inconsiderable bounty.  
Roran was in the tower with Kiri, Carn, Harald, and Yarbog, all of them in gear designed so they could board the dragon if the first part of Nasuada's design worked.  
'Here they come,' said Kiri, indicating with one slender finger.  
Roran followed the finger, and saw a huge dark shadow fly out of the mountains to the northwest, following a flash of silver in the moonlight.  
'And there's the guide just like Trianna saw in that rider's mind.' Said Harald indicating the flashing, silver what-ever-it-was, presumably a steel plate or something attached to a smaller dragon's haunches or tail.  
'Nasuada says to be ready, Gringlok and Ornthrond are in position,' reported Kiri.

They'd been unable to secure Eragon and Saphira's help by the dint of Arya's absence.  
The trans-world spell required two skilled spellcasters on either side of the portal to maintain the spell, and with only Murtagh and Eragon there to maintain the spell, they couldn't very well ask either of them for help for a whole host of reasons, most of them politic.  
But the main being that with Arya's absence, Eragon and Murtagh were stuck on their side of the portal maintaining the spell, and couldn't cross themselves without potentially killing themselves.  
However, they'd been able to negotiate the dwarf's and Fanghur's assistance temporarily, and that would have to serve.  
And if Nasuada's plan worked, it would.

* * *

Captain Luc Mattencourt surveyed the city from the back of Valuré.  
The weather-beaten veteran looked over the city with a cold, calculating eye.  
Only a single one, as his left rested at the bottom of the English channel, courtesy of a long splinter that had lodged itself in his left eye years previously during a skirmish.  
He could've worn an eye patch, but he preferred not to; it gave his gaze an absolutely horrid intensity.  
All Luc Mattencourt had to do to break up a fight among his men was look coldly in the direction of the brawlers.

'Captain, I think I see movement down there!' Called the port lookout, indicating a square in front of the great keep's curtain wall.  
Mattencourt followed the pointing finger, and saw indeed some small movement in the darkness.  
'Valuré, what is that in front of the keep?' Asked Mattencourt.  
The Fleur de Nuit was quiet a while, then finally spoke in a mournful voice, the sort that you'd attribute to a creature of the darkest night if you heard it camping alone in the wilderness.  
'It's Amitius, they have him chained in that square, but I cannot see Captain Champion down there.'  
Mattencourt gritted his teeth.  
'The bastards are baiting us into attempting a rescue, they probably have a Scorpion or Mangonel set up in one of the streets to take a shot at us the moment we go near there,' he growled.  
'Still, they more than likely are sheltering their commanders in the keep, we bomb there first, Skorl?' Said Mattencourt, turning to a slightly short, taut looking man with the gaze of a cornered predator. 'Tell Captain Lefevre we're making a pass on the keep, and he and Sanguinora are to run interference for us,' ordered Mattencourt.  
The magician nodded, and his eyes glassed over momentarily, and a moment later he frowned and gritted his teeth, before he relaxed.  
'Damned fool of a boy,' muttered Skorl darkly.  
'What?' Asked Mattencourt in confusion; Skorl had spoken in English, a language Mattencourt didn't speak himself, nor could understand.  
'He said: 'Damned fool of a boy', sir,' repeated Mattencourt's Lieutenant, who did speak English.  
Mattencourt nodded, piecing together what had happened, before calling out to Valuré to begin his attack as the city's main wall flashed by below and the guards upon the wall cried out in surprise, and the alarm was raised.

* * *

'Here they come be ready,' warned Harald, before loosening his sword in it's sheath.  
Roran drew his hammer, and checked the rope around his waist, before checking the knot attaching it to the roof.  
The horns from the men on the main wall were already sounding, and below, a bustle was proceeding as bows were loaded, and the magicians rushed to get into position.  
As the first, smaller dragon flew by, the soldiers fired off a small volley, being rewarded with a few shrieks of pain from the dragon.  
Then, higher up came the Fleur de Nuit, and as it swept by the tower window, things happened.  
In the courtyard moments later, blooms of fire erupted as the first bombs went off.  
In the tower itself, hiding near windows men with crossbows whipped out of cover, took aim, and fired, being rewarded by cries of pain, though it was impossible to know what sort of damage the quarrels were doing.  
In response, there came sharp _cracks!_ as the Franks answered back with their Black Powder weapons, and screams of pain and surprise from the windows as the crossbowmen were hit.  
Then a squeal of surprise as the Fleur de Nuit stopped cold in midair.

Immediately Kiri grimaced, as he and the other six elves poured strength into the spell binding the dragon in place.  
'Go!' Shouted Kiri, and instantly, Roran dove out of the tower window, clinging to his lifeline for dear life and setting his feet to the wall.  
The dragon's belly-rigging was level with Roran, and he saw the looks of shock on the faces of the men in the rigging as he chanced a leap at the rigging.  
He caught hold of a strap, and held on grimly as one of the men near him drew a Black Powder weapon.  
'Carn!' Shouted Roran.

Too late.  
The pistol went off with a resounding _crack!_ and Roran flinched his eyes shut, waiting for searing pain.  
Instead there was a surprised cry from one of the men on the _other side_ of the belly-rigging.  
Roran opened his eyes in surprise, and saw one of the Franks staring at him at close range.  
Roran immediately belted him upside the head with his hammer, breaking the man's jaw as Harald pragmatically climbed over Roran and into the belly rigging, before punching another man in the face, stabbing a second in the throat, and beheading a third before Carn arrived, and turned to hauling Roran himself into the belly-rigging.  
'Thanks twice,' said Roran breathlessly, before drawing his looted cutlass and stabbing a man who'd been about to brain Carn with an axe.  
'You still owe me Stronghammer,' said Carn, before turning and fending off another attack.  
Roran pushed past him, then leapt and grabbed at the harness straps above him, hauling himself up.

When he was halfway up, he saw another Frenchmen aiming down the barrel of a Black Powder weapon at him.  
The next thing the man went down screaming with an arrow through the neck.  
As the pistol plummeted past, Roran grabbed it, before continuing his climb.  
He reached the dragon's back, and immediately had to duck a sword blow.  
Another scream, and this time Roran saw Gringlok fitting another arrow to his bow as Ornthrond and a small dragon traded blows.  
'Go, I'll take care o' these poxy bastards!' Roared Gringlok, before shooting another Frenchmen to prove the point.

A mind slammed into Roran's defences and he whipped around to see a taut looking man standing with another man missing an eye at the base of the dragon's neck.  
They were guarded by roughly four other men, all looking determined.  
Roran gritted his teeth and focused on Katrina, before knocking a man's face in with his hammer.  
He still had the Black Powder weapon in his hand.  
The taut man, who Roran suspected was a magician, was a wily creature, and was trying to worm into Roran's defences.  
Without hesitation, Roran aimed the weapon at the man, and Roran's fingers found a trigger guard.  
Somewhat familiar with how a crossbow worked, he had no problem slipping his finger into the guard, and firing the pistol.  
The recoil knocked him off balance, but the pressure on his mind vanished, just like the Black Powder weapon, which went sailing into the night as Roran released the weapon in surprise.

Roran regained his balance in time to ward off a cutlass with a bracer.  
He rammed the hammerhead into the man's stomach, before kneeing him in the face, and finished him by cracking his chest cavity.  
With a bellow, Harald was at Roran's side charging into a small block of other men, slashing, stabbing, shield-bashing, even kicking.  
A sharp cry went up, followed by a bellowed oath from Gringlok.

They all whipped around, Roran noting in detached satisfaction that the taut mannered man was nowhere in sight, no doubt dead.  
Gringlok was swearing a blue-streak at the top of his voice, as Gringlok gripped at the other dragon in a bear-hug, and scratched at it's belly with his rear claws.  
Roran saw immediately what the problem was:  
Gringlok had taken a hit from a Black Powder weapon.  
Only a glancing hit thankfully, but it seemed to pain him greatly, and blood was flowing from a hole in his arm.  
Suddenly, the dwarf cut the bindings on his legs, stood, drew his war-axe, bellowed something in his own tongue, then leapt across to the back of Ornthrond's foe, and butted the haft of his axe into his opposite's face, before fending off a desperate sword cut.  
The grappling Fanghur and dragon lurched in midair, and they both slipped, but Gringlok let his axe fall, grabbed the smaller dragon's harness, and drew his short-sword.  
Similarly, the French rider,-who Roran thought looked rather like the rider they'd apprehended that afternoon,- let his Black Powder weapon fall, and drew a cutlass.

Roran started as he felt Kiri against his mind.  
_Stronghammer! Hurry up, we cannot hold this spell any longer!_ Bellowed the elf, obviously straining.  
Recalled to the current situation, Roran drew his own cutlass and punched a man in the face with the hilt, before blocking another strike, and cracking his foe's ribs with his hammer, forcing the blade down and taking off the top of his enemy's head off in a foul mix of blood, bone and brain.  
Now there were only the last few men left.  
Then the Fleur de Nuit lurched, and they were flying again.

Harald, and Roran looked at each other.  
Then Carn followed the contingency plan for the situation.  
'Jump!' He shouted, before doing just that off the dragon's side from where he'd been clambering up.  
Roran and Harald followed suit, but Harald gave a cry of pain, as another sharp _crack!_ rung out.  
Roran didn't have time to be alarmed as he slammed into the tower wall with bone-jarring force.  
_That could've been smoother…_ He thought, grimacing.

* * *

Meanwhile, Gringlok and the French captain were duelling savagely, Ornthrond having gained superiority in the scuffle with his foe, which Gringlok tentatively identified as a Poux-de-Ciel from what Angela had told him.  
'Your soul to the devil!' Screamed the French captain, tears of rage streaking his face as his dragon yowled in pain as Ornthrond managed to tear her belly scales with a long, shallow gash.  
'And yours with me!' Retorted Gringlok savagely, bashing aside the cutlass, then managing to twist the blade in it's owner's grip, and disarm him.  
His arm was on fire where the pistol ball had hit him, but he hung on with an iron grip refusing to let go.  
'Ornthrond, let him have it!' Bellowed Gringlok,

The Fanghur complied, first releasing the Poux-de-Ciel, kicking it away, then tucking his left wing, and rolling right over, at the same time swinging his hindquarters.  
The tail-slam took the little dragon in the head.  
Not enough to break it's neck, but enough to stun it for a few vital moments.

Ornthrond's next action was to assault the dragon's rider's mind full-force, annihilating the boy's unpractised and inadequate defences, before disorienting him long enough for Gringlok to knock him out with a heavy kick to the head.  
Next, Ornthrond focused his attention on the fleeing Fleur de Nuit.  
It's mental defence was tolerably better, but Ornthrond had been trained to break thicker defences than the ones the heavyweight had erected.  
_All brawn and no brain, whatever have these idiots been doing?_ Wondered Ornthrond briefly, before screaming bloody-murder in the Fleur de Nuit's mind again for good measure, and to be sure it got the point.  
Evidently it had because it was flying for it as fast as it could, the remaining crewmen dropping bombs into the city with a vengeful spirit, before casting the big dragon's belly-rigging away as well.

'Ornthrond!' Roared Gringlok again, as the Poux-de-Ciel fell towards the courtyard below.  
With a long-suffering sigh, Ornthrond dove, caught the little dragon with his hind claws, and beat up slowly, lowering them down to the courtyard.  
Gringlok stepped from the back of the defeated dragon, which was staring around blearily.  
'By Guntêra's holy bollocks,' swore Gringlok, as he surveyed the carnage:

The Varden had restored the siege engines wrecked in the sack of the city during the week, but now they were completely destroyed.  
Nasuada's design had been to lure the French into a rescue-attempt of the dragon they'd captured that afternoon, then dazzle the Fleur de Nuit with spells of light and torches, then board from above.  
This had obviously gone astray when the dragon had attacked the castle instead, and the crew had started dropping bombs.  
Many of the men who'd been crewing the siege engines were laying dead, impaled by splinters, blasted apart, dead of concussive shock, and a whole host of other causes, while others were badly maimed.

Many of the archers had been wounded when the smaller dragon had struck at them when they'd taken shots at the Fleur-de-Nuit, before Ornthrond and Gringlok had attacked them when they'd gone for the dragon chained before the curtain wall.  
They'd been hiding in the tunnel in the curtain wall.

Inside the tower where the snipers had been hiding, many of the archers lay dead from the ministries of the riflemen on the Fleur de Nuit.  
Others were wounded, and many of the spellcasters were fainted from pouring so much energy into the spell of binding they'd used on the Fleur de Nuit.

At the top of the tower, Roran hauled himself back through the window, groaning with the effort, before collapsing onto the floor.  
He stood shakily before helping his two compatriots back through as well.  
'That could've gone better,' observed Carn, clutching a bloodied nose.  
'Damn right, we could've taken that big fellow, if only we could've had Shadeslayer…' mused Harald, more concerned with what might've been than the dozen-or-so minor wounds his one-man charge had earned him, as well as a hole through his shoulder which was oozing blood.  
'We couldn't have held that brute any longer; could you give me a hand, I put too much into that spell,' admitted Kiri weakly.  
Harald and Roran obliged him, and they hobbled out of the tower.

* * *

'Well, at least we accomplished something this night.' Said Gringlok, nursing a tankard of ale.  
He would leave in the morning back to Loch Laggan, but until then he and Ornthrond were staying with the Varden, in case the Fleur de Nuit came back.  
'Indeed, the capture of a second French lightweight, and this one's rider can speak the common tongue?' Asked Nasuada again.  
Gringlok grunted.  
''Is dragon as well, the feisty thing called Ornthrond a 'ole 'ost o' vile things, before she bit 'is shoulder an' 'e got mad with 'er,' He confirmed, adjusting the bandage on his left arm,- where the Black Powder shot had hit him,- slightly.  
'We'll question the pair of them tomorrow, until then the least I can give you is the Varden's gratitude,' said Nasuada sincerely, 'that could've been far worse.'  
It was true.  
All told nearly sixty men, urgals and dwarves killed outright, and another hundred and fifty badly wounded.

'As for you four,' said Nasuada, turning to face the haggard Kiri, Carn, Harald and Roran. 'You did well, although it is a shame you weren't able to capture that other dragon, and Roran now that you have used one of these Black Powder weapons, what is your assessment?' Asked Nasuada.  
'They're a deadly weapon my lady, however from what Gringlok has told us, they only have a single shot, much like a crossbow, only they take far longer to reload; if that problem were to be overcome, they'd be a potent equaliser in our fight ahead.' Said Roran nodding.  
'But you do not believe that they should become a widely used weapon?' Pressed Nasuada.  
Roran shook his head. 'No, such a tool would mean even a common bandit would be a match for a dragon if they could place a shot well, and I believe those Franks forsook proper armour because of them, they only wore leather coats and the like,' recounted Roran.  
'And skill at arms counts for nought when even the worst hand with a blade can be taught to fire a crossbow, and these are more dangerous again.' Agreed Nasuada.  
'Well, I believe I can give you four the rest of the night off, you look like you need the rest; and take tomorrow as well,' added Nasuada as an afterthought.  
Roran, Kiri, Harald and Carn bowed gratefully and left.

Gringlok wordlessly drained his tankard, nodded once to Nasuada, then followed the other four out of the castle into the courtyard, where Ornthrond was busily devouring a cow Eragon and Murtagh had requisitioned from the herd-masters at Loch Laggan for the Fanghur, to preserve the Varden's supplies.  
'Well my friend, we're in for a long night,' said Gringlok, as he hunted his axe out among the debris in the courtyard.  
Ornthrond may have replied, but if he did his maw was so stuffed with meat it was unintelligible.

**I hope I didn't make a hash of that.**

**I prefer my action to have some realism to it, but I hope I didn't underpower or overpower either side.**

**Well, the judges of that are you all.**

**So, thanks for this time around:**

**For Story alerting: Humbuggy and CrimsonQueen24.**

**For Favouriting: CrimsonQueen24.**

**For Reviewing: Hideout Writer, T-2238, GoldenMoon1997 and Humbuggy.**

**Also, a special mention to GoldenMoon1997 for correctly guessing the two Ancient Language phrases from last chapter.  
****If you're interested, they were:  
**"**Dragon, fly to the earth and your rider will not be harmed."  
****And the second one was:  
**"**Stop flying, or your rider dies."**

**So, 'til next time:**

**No One-liners.**


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter XXII

Gathering

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

Eragon gauged the man who presented himself as Captain Richard Clark.  
He was tall, bulky, with matted blond hair, watery blue eyes and a lined, weather-beaten face, and his arms bore a fair number of scars from old fights.  
All in all, Eragon liked what he saw; As Arya had judged him, Clark would be a valuable ally to the Varden.

Then there was Victoriatus.  
He was half as large again as Mortarius and the other Yellow Reapers Eragon had seen, and possessed an unusually large jaw, large foreclaws, and like the majority of the dragons Eragon had so far encountered in this world, a more varied colouration than he was used to:  
He was mainly a light gold brown, which darkened to caramel on the lower portions of his legs; marmalade striations patterned his wings, along with a dappling of dark red markings along his sides.  
A number of old scars were visible on him, as well as small holes in his wings where he'd been struck with rifle shots.

'Glad to meet you Captain, I trust Arya informed you of everything yesterday?' Enquired Eragon, just to be sure.  
'That she did son, I still don't think I believe it yet, but I'm not doubting that by the tale she told, you folks need help,' replied Clark easily.  
'So, what about the rest of the captains I'll be working with?' Asked Clark.  
'Most aren't here yet, but it's good to see you again sir,' said Stern walking up to their discussion.  
'Why Stern, it's good to see you again as well,' said Clark in evident delight, 'and a Captain now, congratulations on getting your step, I hear you're the Captain on a Yellow Reaper now am I right?'  
Stern nodded emphatically.  
'Yes, Mortarius is a Yellow Reaper and he should be a fine goer when his trainings done, although I think Saphira and Thorn are something of a bad influence on him Eragon,' said Stern turning to Eragon. 'I've got no complaint about him wanting to be out of harness when it's unnecessary, but he's getting into the habit of flying off without bothering to tell me where he's going,' said Stern with a censorious gleam in his eye.  
'Don't start that again, Stern we've had that out before and you know there's more to it than that,' replied Eragon wearily. 'If you can't get him to live up to your notion of obedience, that is no concern of mine; Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go and see my ground crewmen about the state of Saphira's new harness, Celeritas is anxious to start Saphira training with a full crew as soon as possible,' said Eragon, shaking Clark's hand, and nodding to Stern.  
'I'll leave you two to catch up, or work on how that formation will run,' he finished, before heading for the harness sheds.

* * *

'Giles? Where are those buckles? I asked you for 'em five minutes ago, what the hell is keeping you?' Called Shields in exasperation.  
The armourer and all-round-metalworker looked up from his small forge, and held up a pair of tongs with a red-hot buckle in it's pincers.  
'Forging these things is a rather exact science, would _you _like to try forging these things and seeing if you can go any faster?' Enquired Giles indicating the leatherworker with the red-hot buckle before dowsing it in a bucket of water.  
'Will you two stop yammering at each other?' Demanded Theresa in irritation from where she was setting the shoulder strap of the harness in order.  
'Will you all just _shut up._' Said another voice. This voice was quiet, intense, and was laced with irritation.  
The three ground crewmen glanced at a small table slightly removed from where they were working on the harness.  
It was as far away from the forge as was convenient.  
'Gideon, would it kill you to get out more?' Asked Shields in mock-polite confusion.  
The young man at the table, Gideon, gave Shields a patronising look with his clear sky blue eyes, then gave him the finger.  
'I don't do social chit-chat Shields, and don't start on about my not going with you to meet our new boss yesterday, like I know you're going to, we both know I won't listen.  
'Oi, Kincaid will you get off your Kazilik? We're supposed to be working on this harness,' said Murray from where he was helping Theresa, 'and Shields, shut up and give us a hand here will you?' Asked Murray tiredly.  
'Afternoon all, how goes it?' Asked Eragon, as he came strolling into the workshop.  
'It goes as it goes Skipper, which would be a helluva lot better if Shields would stop complaining and start helping with this damn shoulder strap.' Replied Murray venomously as he drove an awl through a layer of leather and worked on piercing the second layer.  
A movement caught Eragon's eye, and he saw a solidly built, whipcord young man of roughly seventeen with a severe expression and sky-blue eyes step away from a table.  
'Skipper, I'd like you to meet the fifth member of Saphira's ground crew, Gideon Kincaid; Gunner, eccentric and recluse.' Said Murray, then swore as the awl slipped and he accidentally stabbed himself with it.  
'That was your own fault Murray, you know you shouldn't have your hand next to an awl when you're piercing leather like that.' Said Gideon in a superior tone.  
'How 'bout you give us a hand then, smart-ass instead of telling the rest of us how to do our jobs?' Demanded Murray around his hand, which he was biting in an attempt to numb the pain.  
'Fine,' said Gideon, completely oblivious to Murray's venomous sarcasm, and picked up the awl and proceeded to pierce the remaining layers of hide in rapid succession.

Eragon regarded Gideon keenly.  
The young man was completely unconscious of Murray's venomous glare, but he wasn't ignoring him.  
He also seemed to have an aura… something he hadn't sensed on any other person he'd met in this world…  
'How long is this going to take?' Asked Eragon, motioning to the harness.  
'At this rate, it should be ready by tomorrow morning, _if everyone helps._' Said Murray, with stern glances at Gideon,-who was as oblivious to the look as he was to the sarcasm,- Shields, and Giles.  
Shields swore quietly, and abandoned his small portion of the harness to help Theresa and Murray on the shoulder strap.  
'Kincaid, a word if you will?' Asked Eragon, motioning towards the door.  
Gideon hesitated, then stepped outside.  
Eragon followed him, then drew Gideon along to the disused storage shed that was being used to house the supplies they'd brought from Alagaësia.  
'What have I done Captain?' Asked Gideon in confusion.  
'Nothing,' Eragon quickly assured him, 'I'm just wondering why you're on Saphira's ground crew when you so obviously dislike Murray, Shields and Giles.'  
'I don't dislike them,' said Gideon earnestly, 'I just don't really like crowds too much, and working with gunpowder is a tricky enough business without Giles and Shields sniping at each other,' he explained.  
Now Eragon begun to suspect that something was off with Gideon.  
He couldn't really say what, but the young man seemed oblivious the reactions of the others, and more interested in his work.  
Eragon took a tentative look at Gideon's thoughts.  
Gideon stiffened in obvious alarm, and Eragon caught an uncoordinated, but highly effective mental slap for his efforts, and couldn't help flinching.  
'You're a mind breaker!' Said Eragon in surprise.  
Gideon blinked. 'A mind breaker?' He asked in confusion.  
'A non-magic user capable of telepathy, although from what you said to Shields, I'd say you've been doing it without realising,' explained Eragon.  
Gideon's face cleared and a look of comprehension dawned on him.  
'Oh, so _that's_ why I keep being able to second guess everyone, and no-one ever wants to play me at poker,' he said.  
'Poker?' Asked Eragon in confusion.  
Gideon shrugged, embarrassed.  
'A form of gambling, it's a card game,' he explained.  
'Say, what is your position on Saphira's ground crew anyway?' Asked Eragon.  
'I'm the Gunner, it's my job to make sure all the rifles and pistols are well maintained, and to prepare cartridges, bombs and the like,' replied Gideon with a shrug.  
Eragon nodded.  
'Right, well look, if you want to stay on Saphira's ground crew, you're going to have to put up with the other four; you've all earned your places, but I don't want any enmity between my crew, am I clear?' Asked Eragon.  
Gideon hesitated again. 'Alright, but I can't make any promises,' he said.

* * *

'So, who do we have on this formation anyway?' Asked Stern across the table from Clark in the officer's club.  
'Well, asides from you and me, we've got three other green Captains, and one maverick.' Said Clark, consulting the dispatch containing his orders.  
'Who's the maverick?' Asked Stern.  
'Who do you think?' Replied Clark, handing the dispatch to Stern.  
'Captain Blood?' Exclaimed Stern in surprise.  
'That's what I said when I found out,' Clark agreed grimly.  
'Well on the bright side, Jack knows what he's about in the air,' commented Stern optimistically.  
'Assuming we don't piss him off,' observed Clark.

* * *

Later that day, two more newcomers flew in from the most noticeable of them was a light green dragon, a Grey Copper.  
The second, slightly less noticeable new arrival was a juvenile Yellow Reaper, barely a week old, being supported by the Grey Copper.  
When the two newcomers had set down, Arya immediately dropped lightly down from the Grey Copper's back.

She was followed a scant thirty seconds later by a tall man, his muscles were corded, yet he wasn't bulky, he had the build of a runner.  
He wore a dark blue bandanna patterned with a white design, with only a few hanks of his dark hair framing his brow and deep blue eyes showing from under it.  
His neckcloth was tied around his left bicep, and his bottle green coat was more along the lines of a trench coat than the ones the other aviators wore.  
His arms bore several scars,-relics of old fights,-and a particularly nasty one ran from his chin to his neck.  
Despite this imposing feature, his face was lined with smile lines, and there was a twinkle of good humour in his deep eyes.  
Many of the more experienced captains in the courtyard eyed the newcomer warily.

A moment later the Yellow Reaper clambered from the Grey Copper's back, along with a burly young man,- in fairness, he was young enough to be a raw midwingman,- with pale green eyes and light brown hair that looked as if it'd been permanently blown out from his head, creating a not unimpressive mane-like look.

The first man turned to look at the Grey Copper.  
'How you holdin' Jinx?' He asked.  
He had a voice that was serious, but at the same time light-hearted, as if he was equally comfortable debating philosophy and laughing at bawdy jokes.  
'I'm fine Jack,' said the dragon unconcerned, before letting off the small, ten-man flight crew, and five-man ground crew.  
The flight crew were to a man, weather beaten, rugged, and looked like they'd arrived from a month off after a mission to hell and back.  
Jinx stayed still as his ground crew immediately set about taking off his harness.  
'Damn, that's better,' said Jinx, rolling his shoulders, then fanning his wings with an aside to his captain.  
'I'm heading down to the lake for a swim, and hopefully to catch a bite to eat, be back when I'm back.' He said, then took off for the lake.  
'Macintyre, can we please go get something to eat too?' Asked the Yellow Reaper, in an obviously female voice.  
'Alright Vindexia, come on,' said Macintyre, and lead her towards the feeding grounds, obviously familiar with the layout of the covert.  
Arya regarded the captain of the Grey Copper with a approving look.

Of the six Captains asked for, the man before Arya,-Jack Dyer,- was probably the most well-known in the corps.  
He was, as she'd been informed the day before in a message from Admiral Powys, infamous throughout the corps for starting fights with fellow officers, and allowing his dragon to roam as it liked.  
However, his history went back further than this:

As a ground crewman,-a Gunner,- with a Angelwing called Obversaria nearly thirty years previously, he'd saved his commanding officer's life during a skirmish, beating back the enemy boarders with nothing but a shovel after clambering up the dragon's harness without the aid of straps.  
A few years later, he'd come across Rankin in the middle of harnessing a Grey Copper at the covert near Dublin, after Celeritas had rebelled against Rankin,-Arya had been surprised to learn the old dragon's history with the man,- and Rankin had insisted on the outdated method of harnessing involving a leather hood and net.  
Dyer had confronted Rankin then and there, and dissatisfied by Rankin's feeble explanations, had punched Rankin in the mouth, splitting his lip, before bloodying his nose with a follow up, and blacking his eye with a third.  
He'd then taken away the bindings from the hatchling, and subsequently the hatchling had taken a liking to Dyer, who named him Jinx, as a reminder of what had happened to Rankin, who'd then been put to Levitas.  
The whole incident had earned Dyer the fearsome nickname 'Captain Blood' among the aviators.  
Finally getting fed up with Dyer's troublemaking, along with his maverick antics, the Admiralty had banished Dyer, Jinx and their whole crew to the colonies in the Americas, which Arya vaguely recalled as being the continent to the west of England.  
That had been ten years previously.  
Now they had returned hardened, decorated, and all but unchanged, and had been enjoying a quiet breather-posting in Blackpool before they'd been drafted for the formation that was to support the Varden.

* * *

'Anything happen while I was gone?' Asked Arya, coming over to where Eragon was quizzing Noelfavrel on mathematics.  
He dismissed Noelfavrel to go and check on Galzra, then turned to Arya.  
'The Varden were attacked.' He said bluntly, 'also, we've discovered that time doesn't move the same way between these two worlds: it flows faster here than in Alagaësia, although it appears to be slightly random as well, back on the attack, Gringlok managed to capture one of the aggressors, while Roran, Du Vrangr Gata and a small group of the Varden's soldiers managed to drive off the second aggressor.'  
'Galbatorix sent a aerial assault after the Varden?' Asked Arya to clarify.  
'Yes, and it inflicted many casualties as well: one hundred and fifty dead and sixty badly wounded from what Nasuada said,' replied Eragon darkly.  
'Gringlok should be back in a few hours, but Nasuada also has a message,' continued Eragon.  
'What did she say?' Asked Arya.  
'When this formation is assembled, they have six months to train; after that, Nasuada wants them with the Varden; she's already issued orders for the Varden to entrench in Fienster and prepare for siege, and ordered the force besieging Aroughs to either entrench and starve the empire out, or break the siege and take the city; I don't know about you Arya but alliance or no, I find it difficult sitting here knowing that there is aught that we can do but follow this course.' Confessed Eragon.  
'Well, at least she gave us that much time,' said Arya, sitting down next to Eragon.

It was late afternoon, and most of the dragons were drowsing.  
Over a little way from the others, Laurence was reading to Temeraire.  
Levitas was off in a corner by himself, still looking miserable and Rankin was nowhere in sight.  
Noelfavrel was talking quietly with Galzra, who shook her head vehemently at something, and approached them.  
'Eragon, sir can I please go flying? My wings are feeling much better now, and I do long so to try it,' asked Galzra plaintively.  
_Saphira?_ Asked Eragon, glancing at Saphira, who was busily cleaning around her talons.  
She glanced at Galzra, read Eragon's thoughts, and gave a rumbling sigh.  
'Alright, but do not strain yourself, or try anything too strenuous,' admonished Saphira.  
Galzra beamed at Saphira, before turning, spreading her wings, and leaping into the air, and beating her wings frantically, before instinct took over, and she began to fly more smoothly.  
Galzra laughed in her lilting voice, before rolling, then turning a tight circle and flying aimlessly for around five minutes.  
She then landed, and proceeded to Noelfavrel, shoulders hunched.  
'Now my shoulders hurt again,' she said sulkily.  
'I told you it was a bad idea,' replied Noelfavrel with a shake of his head.

* * *

Eragon sat back in Saphira's saddle and enjoyed the feel of the wind on his face.  
They were finally doing something beyond the endless repetitions of manoeuvres, and he could get away from Celeritas' incessant insistence he learn how to use a pistol.  
Firing the thing and hitting the target was no great challenge.  
Reloading the thing however usually resulted in one entertaining disaster or another.  
Eragon was silently thankful he'd yet to accidentally blow his hand off by forgetting to remove cinders from the barrel before he put the powder in.

They were flying towards Dover, following a route out over water.  
With them were Jinx and Dyer, Sturn and Mortarius, Sutton and Messoria, and Laurence and Temeraire.  
Thorn and Murtagh were also along, plus Arya.  
The break from the constant training was a precaution:

A small formation was bringing the Sharpspitter\Winchester egg and the hatchling Chequered Nettle and it's captain along to Loch Laggan, but the route they were taking went over water, and it was a route often patrolled by French formations looking for a fight.  
Hence they were heading to meet the small formation as an escort.  
Temeraire was under full harness, with a temporary crew.  
Thorn, like Saphira wore only his saddle, and he was perhaps the one enjoying himself the most,-bar Saphira and Eragon,- and Saphira was still sticking to training Thorn, occasionally leaving the formation with him for a short and enthusiastic bout of sparring.  
This usually resulted in the other dragons slowing to watch with interest, and their crews with no less interest.

They sighted the formation shortly after noon, and met up with them half an hour later, before taking up a defensive formation around them.  
No more games now, this was business.  
Temeraire flew level with the dragon supporting the Chequered Nettle,- a large Bright Copper,- and maintained the position as it gathered up it's captain and spread it's wings, catching a breeze, and flapping once before the Bright Copper dove away.  
Laurence bit his lip as Temeraire slowed fractionally and the young Chequered Nettle settled on his back.  
It carefully deposited it's captain, and waited patiently as it was strapped on.  
'Okay, Rosarias is secure captain, and I'm on as well!' Called the Nettle's captain.  
He had an Irish accent, and from what Laurence could see of him making his way along Temeraire's back with practiced ease, couldn't have been more than twenty-two.  
As the other captain approached, Laurence saw he'd been mistaken:

The captain was a young woman.  
She had shoulder length blonde hair, and the luminous blue eyes that only Irish girls possess.  
Now that she was closer, Laurence could also see she had a gorgeous figure, and was nearing the full bloom of her beauty.

'Good afternoon Captain, I'm Gloria Scandland, on Rosarias,' she said extending a callused hand.  
Laurence also saw a well-kept cutlass at her side.  
She obviously knew what she was doing.  
'I beg your pardon captain, but how is it you come to have a Chequered Nettle? I thought woman served exclusively with Xenicas and Longwings,' Asked Laurence in bewilderment.  
Scandland shrugged, and gave Laurence a winning smile.  
'No apology necessary Captain, you're right in the ordinary course of things, but I was put to Rosy when the Xenicas I was meant to harness hatched unexpectedly and slunk away into the night; if Rosy hadn't of hatched unexpectedly as well, and me being the only candidate to hand, I'd probably be flat out of luck,' she explained.  
'Well, might I introduce Temeraire?' Asked Laurence.  
Temeraire was glancing at them with interest, as well as at the Chequered Nettle on his back.  
'Hello Captain Scandland,' said Temeraire politely.  
'Pleased to meet you as well Temeraire, just mind you don't go dropping my Rosarias now won't you?' Asked Scandland jokingly.  
'No, I won't let him fall, he's settled back there quite nicely,' said Temeraire slightly offended at the insinuation.  
'Now that's just insulting,' said the Chequered Nettle, overhearing, 'I'm female you dolt!' she called back in warm tones that did nothing to soften the insult.  
'Rosarias, mind your language if you please, just because you _can_ swear doesn't mean you should,' scolded Scandland with an involuntary smile.  
Laurence was looking at Rosarias with a mixed expression, then shot a glance at his newly assigned lookout, a boy named Allen.  
'I don't want to have to reprimand you for repeating foul language while on my crew, am I clear?' Asked Laurence sternly.  
'Yes sir,' replied Allen as quiet as he could be over the wind.

Meanwhile, Eragon was busy with the delicate business of transferring a small straw-stuffed crate containing the Winchester\Sharpspitter crossbreed egg onto Saphira's back.  
A tricky prospect, which Eragon was achieving through magic, not prepared to risk the consequences of a slip-up if done manually.  
He also monitored the minds of the crew on the dragon below, looking for any sign that his actions were being met with anything beyond interest or disbelief.  
At last, the crate was perched on the back of Saphira's saddle, and it was a quick matter for Eragon to strap it down with the ties he normally used for his saddle bags.

'We're glad of your assistance, may the sun be at your backs and the wind rise under your wings,' called Eragon, as the now nine-strong formation circled for a few minutes.  
'Just make sure you give the Frogs a black-eye when you're done with the training!' Called one of the captains in the mini-formation, to the general agreement of the others.  
Eragon smiled good-naturedly.  
'I'll do what I can!' Called Eragon back.  
With no further ceremony, the two formations separated, and went back the ways they'd come.

* * *

'So who gets this egg anyway?' Asked Angela curiously, as it was unloaded, and taken quickly to a barn down near the ground-crew sheds.  
'A Lieutenant, or so I imagine,' said Gregs dryly as Clark, Stern, Dyer and Macintyre hauled the crate into the shed, and out of sight.  
'It wouldn't be _you_ would it?' Asked Angela with a conspiratorial elbow, glancing up from the book on European dragon-breeds she was reading,-gathering any and all information she could on their abilities for the Varden's benefit.  
Gregs laughed awkwardly, then looked wistfully at the shed.  
'I wish but no, unfortunately not, it's a fellow from Dover, Logan Grimmer if I recall, he arrived this afternoon, he's cut from the same cloth as Rankin: an old aviator family, but he has a good deal more respect for dragons and a better chap for a discussion at table is a rare one, a good friend of mine actually,' Gregs said, scratching his chin.  
'By, 'cut from the same cloth as Rankin,' do you mean he's an arrogant, over-bred bastard?' Asked Eragon as he finished unbuckling Saphira's saddle.  
'No, no, he's more down-to-Earth than Rankin, his family is well known in Government, but they're probably the only one that readily champions the Corps,' assured Gregs easily.  
'If his family has so much influence, how come he wasn't granted a dragon straight off? Or does the Corps not run so much on influence as merit?' Asked Angela.  
Gregs laughed bitterly.  
'In the main run of things it is by merit, and a damned good thing that is as well, but every now and then we get a useless motherfucker-excuse my language,- like Rankin, with more influence than good sense, and have to put them to a dragon over the heads of more deserving fellows; believe it or not, these days most folks reckon old Captain Blood had the right idea when he filched Jinx out from under Rankin's nose, and bloodied it into the bargain.' Gregs explained.  
'Then I hope your trust and respect for Grimmer are well-founded, I would wager that Rankin wouldn't last ten seconds among the Varden if they knew him, and even that is a generous estimation, I'd turn him into a frog if it wouldn't raise a hue and cry and a witch-hunt.' Said Angela, before bending down to stroke Solembum, who was playing the part of a cat.  
He'd caused a minor sensation among the ensigns and cadets when he'd shifted from his form as a young boy to his cat-form, the previous week.

* * *

Laurence was privately feeling very satisfied.  
Eragon's request for him and Temeraire to fly escort, and assist with brining Rosarias had been unexpected, but it had done wonders for Temeraire's confidence.  
They'd completed their first action, and while it hadn't been especially urgent, nor had they really been needed, Laurence couldn't help but feel thoroughly satisfied with how things had turned out.  
It had occurred to him that Eragon had requested Temeraire's assistance over Maximus' as a morale boost, and Laurence couldn't help but feel gratified by the gesture.  
'Not bad out there Laurence,' said Sutton, joining him at the table, 'and that being Temeraire's second time flying under proper harness, and the first with crew, you handled yourselves well.'  
'Do you think so?' Laurence asked startled, he hadn't considered that Sutton and Dyer might've been passing judgement.  
Sutton nodded.  
'I wouldn't have credited you'd come from the Navy after that, although I can't really say much for the company you've been keeping.' He said.  
Laurence looked at the table, not wanting to be reminded of his erroneous first impressions of Rankin.  
'I will tell you now sir, that I do not approve of, and do not intend to practice neglect; either in Temeraire's case or in another dragon's,' said Laurence quietly.  
Sutton glanced at Laurence.  
'Well maybe there is some hope for you then, a piece of advice from an old hand like me,' began Sutton, 'I'd focus on getting to know the other captains 'round the covert, and avoid Rankin entirely; Wouldn't be the first time that a greenie got taken in by his outward charm, although I wish some of 'em had taken Eragon's or Captain Blood's course of action and roughed him up a bit.' Said Sutton, obviously reminiscing.  
'Ah! Laurence, I trust I find you in good health after your first real flight?' Asked Rankin cheerily, sliding into a seat across from Laurence.  
Laurence answered briefly, in favour of starting a discussion on Sutton's thoughts on Temeraire's ability.

* * *

Meanwhile, Temeraire was drowsing in the courtyard.  
Saphira always reminded him that he was welcome to talk with her and Thorn, but Temeraire couldn't help but think it rude to intrude.  
The sound of wings interrupted him, and he glanced up to see the Grey Copper, Jinx land and come over.  
'Nice flying today kid,' said Jinx approvingly.  
'Not to make too fine a point of it, but what exactly is your breed? I saw some big bastards over in the Americas, might've even seen one to match your two friends over there,-' Jinx gestured over to Saphira and Thorn,- 'but I ain't never seen your like before, let alone any Western Captain,-'sides from those American back-stabbers,- let their charge out of harness before,- asides from Jack.' Jinx asked.  
'Oh,' Temeraire hesitated a moment, wondering if it'd sound like showing off to say what breed he was.  
'I am a Chinese Imperial, but I am not yet full grown,' added Temeraire hurriedly.  
'Huh,' said Jinx, slightly impressed, 'the big fella and his rider I saw over in Canada claimed he'd come from over that way, but he reckoned a dragon was a dragon, no matter his size or colour.' Said Jinx conversationally.  
Temeraire lifted his head interested.  
'Saphira is of much the same view, and her Captain, or Rider, pardon, is of a similar mind, and they have both heard rumour of another rider and dragon like them here, you and your captain should talk to them,' commented Temeraire.  
Jinx snorted.  
'You're jumping to conclusions there sonny, just 'cause they're alike, don't mean they know or even like each other, 'less they ask we won't tell, and you should keep that snout of yours out of their business, 'less you want it bitten,' Advised Jinx.

* * *

Lieutenant Logan Grimmer looked at the dragonet before him with interest.

It had the intimidating orange eyes of a Sharpspitter, and was coloured dark blue for the most part, in keeping with it's poison-spitting progenitor, whilst it's wings were the light purple of a fresh-hatched Winchester, and it's forelegs up 'til it's elbows were brown.  
Black striations marked it's wings, and now, as it yawned wide, Grimmer noted that it's two front fangs also sported venom glands; As he watched, some venom was released from the sacs, and collected in the little dragon's mouth.

It coughed slightly, then spat to one side.  
The poison sat for a moment, then began steaming slightly.  
Jack, who'd stayed to watch, took up a broom and prodded the acid-green poison experimentally.  
When he pulled the stick away, it was slightly charred.  
He raised his eyebrows at Grimmer, and winked.  
'_Good luck,'_ he mouthed.  
The hatchling approached Jack.

'Why are you looking so surprised?' He asked.  
Jack looked at the crossbreed in surprise.  
'Don't go getting attached to me mate, I've already got Jinx to look after, go talk to Tall-Dark-and-Handsome there,' said Jack, raising his hands in surrender, and backing up a step.  
Grimmer's heart had sunk to his boots when the hatchling had addressed Captain Blood instead of him, but he blinked in surprise when the hatchling actually took the older captain's advice, and came over, examining him with a critical eye.  
'Well, that man was right, you are handsome,' said the dragon politely.  
'Th-thanks,' stammered Grimmer.  
This hadn't been how he thought it'd go.  
'Compared to him anyway,' added the hatchling, gesturing to Jack.  
'Hey!' Said Jack indignantly.  
Grimmer knew his chance was probably going to slip away if he didn't hurry, so he seized his chance.  
'Forgive me for being so rude, my name is Logan Grimmer, might I ask yours?'  
'Oh, I was most rude as well, my name is Noctus,' said the crossbreed politely.  
Grimmer felt his heart hit rock-bottom and start digging.  
'I suppose you would not want me as your captain then as you have named yourself, you would prefer to live free and wild?' Asked Grimmer, fighting to keep the bitterness from his voice.  
To Grimmer's surprise, Noctus shook his head.  
'Stuff the breeding grounds and living wild, I want to see this Alagaësia that you were talking about when you carted my egg in here, and I'll bet you wouldn't let me go if I didn't take a captain,' Noctus said scornfully.  
Grimmer tactfully remained silent.  
Stern wordlessly handed Grimmer a hatchling's harness.  
'Well, would you allow me to harness you?' Asked Grimmer.  
With any normal dragon, he might've phrased it as more of a statement, but after seeing what the highly poisonous venom had done to the wooden broom handle, he did not mean to offer any provocation to the little crossbreed and end up covered in the stuff.  
In response, Noctus fanned his wings wide, and stood side on to Grimmer, a clear invitation.  
Grimmer had the harness on Noctus in under two minutes, then proffered a bucket of meat.  
Noctus demolished it in under thirty seconds and managed another one and a half buckets before he finally nodded off.

Jack stepped forward and pumped Logan's hand.  
'Well done mate, that's how a harnessing should be done,' he complimented.  
'Thanks sir,' said Grimmer uncertainly.  
'Just call me Jack, Captain. Or Blood if you prefer,' said Jack with an ironic grin.  
'Congratulations Captain Grimmer,' said Stern, wholeheartedly, giving Grimmer a slap on the back.  
Grimmer was grinning ear to ear, and didn't notice as he gathered the snoring Noctus up in his arms.

**Okay, looong chapter there.**

**I actually meant to spread this out over a couple more chapters, but that would kill the pacing, and I think I've introduced enough characters for now to be going on with.**

**So, a few interesting facts about some of my OC captains:**

**Captain Blood, aka Jack Dyer is loosely based on the Richmond AFL player of the same name, a legend in his time, and a real personality.**

**Scandland and Macintyre were the names of two colonial Australian policemen killed by the Kelly Gang at Stringybark creek in the late 1800s.**

**So, there's a bit of interesting background to go with this chapter.**

**On to thanks for this time around:**

**For Reviewing, I'd like to thank: T-2238, Hideout Writer and ZombieChick422**

**So, 'til next time:**

**Look up OBL LULZ on Boing Boing and have a good laugh, and:**

**No One-liners.**


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter XXIII

Training

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

The morning after Noctus hatched and Scandland had arrived, Eragon made a point of visiting his ground crew.  
'What's the problem Skipper?' Asked a heavy-lidded Murray. 'Saphira's harness not in good order or something?'  
'No,' said Eragon, he'd just come from checking it with Saphira, 'on the contrary it is beyond our expectations, you've done very well indeed, so well in fact,-' Eragon broke off and produced a small bag of coins.  
'I don't have all that much money that I can augment your pay with a high reward, but I hope an extra crown apiece won't go astray,' said Eragon self- consciously.  
'Why that's mighty generous of you,' said Murray, perking up considerably.  
Gideon was as taciturn as ever, but he nodded his thanks, and unconsciously and unintentionally broadcast a daydream of him and Theresa down in the village together.  
Privately, Eragon made a note to teach Gideon to guard his mind.  
Theresa also nodded, and pocketed her crown without comment.  
Giles shook Eragon's hand, grinning broadly.

* * *

Over the course of the next few weeks, Eragon found himself sorely tested, trying to fulfil three different functions.  
First and foremost to Eragon's mind, he was Noelfavrel's teacher, and thus responsible for his education.  
Second in importance was advising Clark, Stern, Macintyre, Scandland Grimmer and Jack on the state of the war in Alagaësia, and steeling them to deal with the politics that would come with the reverence reserved for Dragon Riders.  
This was no easy feat, considering only Grimmer had experience with politics, and even then, he wasn't used to the verbal cut and thrust that would be necessary when dealing with Orrin's court.  
And none of them could be called used to renown.  
Privately, Eragon was hoping Nasuada would have the good sense to inform the Varden not to pester the aviators.  
And thirdly, he was at the tender mercies of Celeritas with training.  
Now Saphira had her harness, Eragon had no way to evade the flying drills, or the manoeuvres, but he found he couldn't really complain.  
Saddled on Saphira, flying was exhilarating.  
Standing, or crouching like the use of the harness demanded was another experience entirely, though he now knew Glaedr's explanation of the arm straps on Saphira's saddle were there for good reason.  
The acrobatics Saphira was capable of would surely have been the death of him if he'd flown with a harness before now.  
Even so, the spines along her back made flying standing up a hazardous proposition.  
One slip, and he'd be impaled in six different places.  
Meanwhile, Saphira was also nearly bending over backwards keeping up with Celeritas' training, while at the same time tutoring Thorn, Temeraire, and when she finally started flying in earnest, Galzra.

* * *

Galzra's growth, as well as Vindexia's and Rosarias' was explosive.  
By the end of the second week at Loch Laggan, Galzra's shoulder was as high as Noelfavrel's head, and by Keyne's reckoning she was near on three tonnes, and not done growing.  
This was proved in bizarre fashion one morning when they came out to see Galzra queerly round, and sleeping as if in a crouch, limbs dangling, as if she were floating.

When Eragon came to have a look at her at Noelfavrel's concerned request, and Saphira awoke to see herself,-accidentally jostling the still-sleeping Galzra,-and sending her bobbing across the courtyard.  
She woke with a startled growl, and yelped in surprise, fanning her wings to try and stop herself, and only managing to get blown into the air with alarming ease, and floating away, until Saphira grabbed her by the tail and pulled her down.  
But she remained absurdly floating in midair, hissing indignantly, as she strained against her own tail in the wind, vainly trying to reach the ground.

When he'd finally stopped laughing at the absurdity, Eragon hunted Keynes out of his bed, and asked his opinion.  
'Bloody hell,' was Keynes first reaction when he saw Galzra.  
'Is this unusual?' Asked Noelfavrel in concern.  
'You might say that,' said Keynes rubbing his eyes, 'I've heard of this phenomena in Regal Copper hatchlings before, and there it's often an indication said hatchling will exceed twenty-four tonnes; although in her case I'd say it's indicative that she'll reach around ten. Either way, this has never happened to a Winchester before.'  
'Why do all these out-of-the-ordinary things keep happening to me?' Asked Galzra sulkily, as Noelfavrel rigged a tether on her harness, tied to the base of a water trough.  
'I don't pretend to be an expert,' Keynes said, 'but I think Eragon's theory is correct; your contact with Saphira,-and quite possibly Thorn as well,- so soon after hatching has resulted in you being altered by their latent magic, quite possibly to the extent that when you reach your full growth you'll be nigh indistinguishable from them in terms of common attributes.'  
Galzra snorted, releasing a plume of dark smoke from her nostrils, a good sign she was distressed.  
'I wish it didn't involve so many of these strange changes, why couldn't I have stayed a plain Winchester?' Galzra demanded.  
'If I knew that, I'd know how the-' Noelfavrel began wearily.  
' how _we_ ended up here in the first place,' interjected Eragon hurriedly.  
He had no wish or desire to reveal the existence of the Eldunarí to the British, allies or not.  
Noelfavrel gave Eragon a startled look, but the warning glances he got from Eragon, Murtagh and Arya silenced him.

* * *

The formation bound for Alagaësia were another factor again.  
Noctus grew rapidly, putting on close to a tonne of weight in his first week out of the shell, and his venom proved to be a hazard for the other occupants of the covert.  
The first time an unfortunate runner stepped in the stuff, the surgeons tried everything, and if it hadn't been for Angela's extensive skill as a herbalist, as well as Eragon's and Arya's respective skills in neutralising poisons, the boy probably would've lost his foot to gangrene.  
Afterward, Grimmer was to be constantly seen with a bucket of sand in a corner of the courtyard with Noctus, in steel boots and greaves, spreading sand every time the venom dripped from his mouth, or more often, when Noctus spat it out in disgust at the taste.

Eragon also watched with some amusement alongside Saphira Rosarias striving to establish herself in the covert, along with Victoriatus, Maximus, Lily, Saphira and Thorn.  
So far, she was only sure of herself to the same point as Temeraire, hunting with the masses.  
By dint of having to stand guard over the Varden during the night, Ornthrond was too tired each day to cause trouble, and Gringlok was little better.  
They still made an effort at Celeritas' classes, but it was cursory gesture, and twenty years of experience duelling other Fanghur, dog-fighting, and life with the war-band-like structure of Dûrgrimst Vrenshrggn meant that Gringlok and Ornthrond were more than capable of holding their own to begin with.

* * *

Eragon's relations with Murtagh also became easier, mainly due to proximity.  
They couldn't help but talk, and they both knew that it was a necessity that they at least tolerate each other, even if they didn't become as good friends as before.  
They finally managed to at least air some of their disagreements one evening when Murtagh finally consented to spar with Eragon.

The sparring-match started off as their previous ones had in the past, but as the fight progressed, it grew more desperate, and an incautious taunt on Murtagh's part proved enough of a goad for the bout to come nearly to a proper duel.  
The gathered audience, which included Celeritas, Laurence, Gregs, Sutton, Berkley, as well as most everyone else in the covert,-asides from some of the servants, and Rankin, who made a point of distancing himself from what he termed 'licentious, barbaric, disregard to the strictures of the service of the Aerial Corps.'  
To Eragon's private satisfaction, Levitas was among the spectators, in perfect disregard to Rankin's instruction not to watch.

After the goad,- a remark about Oromis' disability,- Eragon near enough unleashed his full prowess:  
His blows picked up speed and strength, and forced Murtagh to tap Thorn's strength as well as his store of eldunarì, which he'd refused to bequeath to Eragon, and as yet remained hidden.  
After this, the duel lasted some two hours,-the sun was setting by the time Eragon at last broke Zar'roc from Murtagh's grasp, and dropped him with a left hook, before placing the blade of Brisingr at Murtagh's neck.  
'I don't recall you doing too well against Oromis yourself, even if he was a 'pathetic old cripple,' spat Eragon venomously, before slamming Brisingr into it's sheath and storming off to the baths in total disregard for the stonily silent spectators.  
They now knew that Murtagh's description of Arya's and Eragon's skill was no exaggeration.

* * *

During the training, Eragon was also shuffling through crewmen.  
Being equivollated to a midweight by the reckoning of the British, Saphira had twenty flight crew, not counting officers:  
nine bellmen, eight topmen, and two lieutenants, along with Eragon himself.  
Thorn was similarly crewed, with the reasoning he'd catch up to Saphira's size soon enough.  
Likewise with Temeraire who was also having crew shuffled about, although to a greater amount.  
When Eragon asked to defer crew selection to Celeritas, he was refused point-blanc, and was forced by Saphira to see the justice of the decision.  
Afterward, he watched each new batch of aviators keenly, looking for those he'd take as Saphira's crew.  
He restated what he'd told the ground crew:  
To fly with Saphira they'd have to be exemplary.  
The most important posting, as Eragon saw it, would be his first lieutenant.  
His natural inclination was to take Gregs.  
The man was well liked universally,-an unusual trait in the aviators but an undeniably useful one,-coupled with that, he had some thirteen years in the Corps, three notable actions, and on one of them had participated in a successful boarding, which had seen him made lieutenant.  
However, Eragon couldn't help but be impressed by another lieutenant:

Granby, the man who'd nearly taken Eragon's head off.  
He was as good as, if not better than Gregs at his work, and could manage a crew admirably, and Eragon's impression was he was also a likeable, honest type.  
The one thing Eragon could mark against him was he held a grudge:  
His acquaintance with Lieutenant Dayes meant he had an unreasonable coldness to Laurence, and Eragon wasn't sure he wanted such a prejudicial grudge simmering, nor if he wanted to serve with a man who'd harbour a grudge over something that, when all was said and done, was minor.  
It came to a head one day when Eragon cornered Granby after a practice session and enquired after _why_ Granby was holding his grudge, besides over Dayes.

'It just doesn't follow, a Navy man getting such a prize dragon as an Imperial, for merely being in the right place at the right time, when there are fellows with far more experience,-and more suited to the task,- lined up ten deep for the opportunity,' explained Granby frankly.  
'And what,' asked Eragon, 'would you say to a fifteen-year-old farm boy who chanced upon a dragon's egg in the mountains, and unaware as to it's nature, tried to sell it to provide meat for his family, only for said egg to hatch for him, and said farm boy to become the champion of a rebellion?' Enquired Eragon coolly.  
'I'd call him a great idiot for not-' Granby paused, and saw that Eragon was watching him expectantly, eyebrows raised.  
'Oh,' was all he said.  
'An apt reaction, and considering that for the first month or two after Saphira hatched I thought her only an animal,-until I was appraised otherwise by Brom, and she started talking,- I can agree with you, however, do you see a parallel?' Asked Eragon.  
'Yes…' Granby said grudgingly and hesitantly.  
'Don't be so quick to write Captain Laurence off as a failure, he certainly knows more than I did when Saphira hatched for me, and he takes Temeraire's well being as a high priority; coupled with that, my impression is he's a good man, and you're letting the fact Temeraire rejected Dayes blind you to the fact.' Eragon stated easily, 'also, a piece of advice on my part: Laurence will need a good first lieutenant, despite everything I just said he doesn't really know all that much about dragons, let alone the reasoning behind the strictures of your Corp.'  
'Neither do you,' pointed out Granby, 'and what are you suggesting?'  
'Give Laurence a chance he deserves one at the least, and whilst I don't know all that much about the Corps either, I know Saphira and her starts.'  
'And what will you do for your first lieutenant?' Asked Granby.  
'I'll be honest with you,' Eragon said, 'My choice would be between you and lieutenant Gregs, and out of the two of you, I'd say you're the better at running a crew's work; however, you have more experience with heavyweights I believe, and Saphira to all intents and purposes is a middleweight, you'd do better with Laurence and Temeraire if you would swallow your pride and give Captain Laurence a chance, as for what I would do I'd take Gregs on. As I said, my choice would be between you and Gregs, and if you can't get along with Laurence, I suppose I'll take the both of you on.'  
'I'll give him a chance I suppose, I'm being shuffled along to Temeraire next anyway, I just hope you're right.' Said Granby resignedly.

* * *

Eragon spat a mouthful of water across the flagstones, and immediately took another mouthful of water.  
He'd been practicing loading a flintlock, and had accidently taken a quantity of powder in his mouth opening a cartridge, and had instantly run to a water trough and was rinsing the vile-tasting black powder from his mouth.  
Finally managing to remove the taste from his mouth, Eragon went back over to where he'd dropped his pistol, only to find Jack Dyer waiting for him.  
'And what might I do for you Jack?' Asked Eragon irritably, he'd given up on the pistol as a lost cause three weeks previously, and only continued to satisfy Celeritas.  
'Figured you might like an alternative to this piece of crap,' said Jack easily, toeing the discarded flintlock. 'Here, try this instead,' He said, handing Eragon a pistol from a holster under his armpit.  
Eragon did so, and eyed it critically.

Unlike the flintlock, the hammer was in the middle of the gun instead of the side, and in the middle, behind the barrel was a block of metal with six holes through, although a disk of metal near the grip closed them at one end.

'And how does this help exactly?' Asked Eragon dubiously, 'I'll still have to reload after six shots.  
Jack grinned, and hit a catch on the side of the pistol, causing it to swing open, before he levered a round out of one of the six chambers.  
Instead of being made of paper, it was brass, and Jack quickly slid it into the empty barrel, flicked the pistol shut, whipped up to a two-handed ready stance, and fired off all six shots in rapid succession, each one slamming into a target downrange.

'Impressive, but where did you come by it?' Asked Eragon, as Jack flicked open the six-shot pistol and took the revolving barrel out, replacing it with another.  
'This was actually an adaptation from a rifle I acquired in America: the Americans called it a Springfield, although my Gunner, Colt managed to adapt it to a pistol, either way, my boys can usually churn out twice as many shots as a heavyweight in half the time with these beauties, and Jinx is more than capable of finishing the job afterwards,' said Jack enthusiastically.  
'Well, that is interesting, and highly effective, but it doesn't help me any, I'm still stuck with a flintlock, and can't load the damn thing.' Said Eragon annoyed with Jack's showing off.  
'Hey, you can have it, and I'll have Warner take a stack of shells over to your gunner, and put a word in for Colt and Blake to show your Armourer and Gunner how to make spares,' said Jack, handing the weapon back to Eragon.  
'Thank you, I appreciate the gift, but why-?'  
'Because, my friend, you've given me and Jinx and our crew a nice opportunity for a fresh adventure, and I'd wager my journal's will make a fortune as fiction when its all over, I just hope that peashooter'll save your life at some stage and get you home.' Explained Jack modestly, 'and Jinx fancies Saphira, thinks that if I can get in your good books, he might be able to sire an egg with her,' added Jack low.  
Eragon quirked a wry smile.  
'Tell him from me it won't happen; for a start, the dragons of Alagaësia come into season once a year, and by my reckoning, you'll have been with the Varden a week by the time the mating season starts, and secondly, I don't think Saphira would be so persuaded,' Eragon told Jack.  
'Just thought I might give you the heads-up on his aspirations,' said Jack with a wave as he walked off.  
Eragon grinned, before setting to work familiarising himself with the way to reload the revolver.  
Overall, he preferred a bow, but the pistol Jack had gifted him would be far more useful at close quarters, and a fine way to deal with multiple foes that were too close to be dispatched by Brisingr.

* * *

Saphira's training was more limiting than anything else for her.  
She was already steady with men climbing over her, as she'd willingly allowed many of the children of the Varden play upon her before Roran's and Katrina's wedding, and was used to it from other times, such as when she'd been outfitted with armour.  
Accustomed to the din of battle, she had no problems with riflemen firing off full volleys from her back, not so much as twitching.  
And, she continued tutoring Thorn and Temeraire, and both dragons were coming along well, trying to one-up each other in skill.  
But still, by the necessity of having to carry a crew as well as Eragon, her superior mastery of flight was severely hampered:  
The more complex acrobatics she was capable of would more than likely kill any passengers.

She grew so disgruntled with her lot, that eventually, Messoria, who by dint of Eragon being on friendly terms with Sutton, took it upon herself to try and cheer Saphira up.

'Look at it this way, you have more people to talk too now, and you don't have to be so cut off anymore, you and Thorn don't even make the effort to try and get to know the rest of us here, and you certainly aren't shy like that Temeraire fellow, so what if you can't do all those fancy acrobatics you insist on teaching Thorn and Temeraire and Galzra, you might find you can gain some friends now, and who knows, maybe even someone you would wish to have an egg with,' said Messoria indulgently.  
'A pretty speech, but you have never I trust, flown merely for the sheer thrill of doing so? You have seen Thorn and I spar, when we went to bring Rosarias and Noctus' egg back here, you do not know how your blood sings in such a duel, and as a matter of pride I could not give up the finer points of my ability as a point of pride: My former master Glaedr, a dragon of nearly two centuries experience, who had overseen the training of many riders and dragons, said he had rarely seen a dragon so well suited to the sky; as for taking a mate, I might, but you and the rest of the dragons of this world are as different to me as the Spine is to the Beor Mountains:  
I do not believe such a match would work, nor do I really think it wise to be tending a clutch of eggs when war rages in my world, as well as here.' Replied Saphira shortly. 'As for having more people to talk to, I have only truly been acquainted with one dragon who was not an enemy of mine before now, excuse me for preferring to see how things lay before I dive in, and as for a crew, all the treasure or possession I need is Eragon; what jewels do I need when my scales are more glorious than any treasure horde in existence, and what use have I for company beyond Eragon's? And it is a hard enough job having to keep Eragon out of trouble. Every time I turn my back, when I look back again, I half expect to see him locked in mortal combat One rider is all I need; A crew just means more people to keep out of trouble.'  
Messoria snorted, before nudging Saphira with a foreclaw.  
'You're just proud and vain, being the last female of your breed has gone to your head.' She said.  
Saphira exhaled a puff of smoke from her nostrils at Messoria, who recoiled in surprise.  
_Maybe I am_. Said Saphira with a hint of amusement. _But then, I can afford to be proud, and it's not just in my opinion that I'm a rare beauty._

* * *

The next day Rosarias' formation flew rote manoeuvres under Celeritas' eye, Temeraire and Maximus were paced through a manoeuvre set, Saphira was drilling Thorn and Galzra in more aerial acrobatics, having finished their allotted time in harness, and Lily's formation were practicing their manoeuvres.  
It was a clear morning, and Eragon, Saphira, Murtagh, Thorn, Laurence and Berkley were in excellent humour, having been informed that morning that they were all almost ready to begin proper formation work instead of endlessly repeating manoeuvres.

'That is Volly over there coming towards us,' remarked Temeraire, and Laurence lifted his head to see a speck of grey wining it's way rapidly towards the covert.  
Laurence wasn't unduly worried by this; couriers came and went between the coverts all the time.  
'He's flying pretty fast sir,' said Granby coming to the base of Temeraire's neck to see for himself.  
Laurence couldn't help but feel the posting an unpleasant one, with Granby's veiled insolence.  
It was even more unpleasant as Granby was proving to be the best of the lieutenants he'd been assigned so far.  
He thought differently mere minutes later as Volly sailed directly into the valley and landed in the training courtyard, a violation of covert rules when a practice was in session, and Captain James leaped off his back to talk to Celeritas.  
All flying ground to a halt, even among the more experienced dragons.  
'What do you suppose it is?' Maximus asked in his rumbling voice; unable to hover himself, much like the majority of those practicing, he was obliged to fly in circles.  
'Listen you great lummox; if it is any of your affair you will be told,' Berkley said. 'Will you get back to manoeuvres?'  
'I do not know; perhaps we could ask Volly,' Temeraire said. 'And there is no sense in our doing manoeuvres anymore; we already know all these,' he added. He sounded so mulish that Laurence was startled; he leaned forward, frowning, but before he could speak, Celeritas called them all in, urgently.

'There has been an air-battle in the North Sea, off Aberdeen,' he said with no preliminaries when they had scarcely landed.  
'Vindicatus has been captured by the French, and they're heading with all speed southwards, also, several other dragons were injured, I don't think I need explain the situation.' He added.  
'Murtagh and I will go and rescue Vindicatus, along with anyone who can be spared to help the wounded limp here,' volunteered Eragon immediately.  
'Count me in, Jinx and I won't be much good supporting midweights, but we're good enough at harassment to give you a hand.' Called Jack immediately.  
Eragon nodded, and with no further ceremony, Saphira headed for the main courtyard, Eragon relaying what had transpired to Murray via Gideon, who in turn alerted Arya and Angela at Eragon's request.

When they arrived, Eragon's whole temporary crew was assembled, and Saphira was outfitted in combat harness in triple time.  
No time for Saphira's armour, so magic and speed would have to do.  
Saphira obligingly attempted to shake the harness loose.  
'All lies well, now get on, we haven't a moment to lose,' said Saphira impatiently.  
Much to Eragon's surprise, Gregs came hurrying up as well.  
'Got room for one more?' He asked, selecting a pistol and a cutlass from a heap.  
Eragon glanced at his current first lieutenant, a young man called Ferris.  
'Another hand should be useful I think,' said Eragon easily, 'don't take it as a mark against you, but we'll probably need every sword.  
'As you will Captain, this'll involve a counter-boarding anyway, which would leave us undermanned.' Replied Ferris, taking no offence.

At that moment, Thorn came up, with Angela and Arya in hot pursuit.  
Both women were garbed for battle.  
Without comment, Arya leapt onto Saphira's back, and came to stand by Eragon.  
Angela quickly clambered up Thorn's foreleg, careful not to injure him with the razored blades of her hûthvir, and quickly clamped on her carabiners.  
'Well come on then, the French won't be coming any closer for long!' She called.

Eragon nodded, and Saphira sprang aloft as Arya latched her own carabiners.  
As they headed due east, on a course that would intercept the fleeing French, they were joined by Jinx, and the two lightweights from Lily's formation, Nitidus,- a Pascal's Blue,- and Dulcia,- a Grey Copper like Jinx.  
Much to Eragon's surprise, they were also joined by Temeraire.  
'Celeritas believes that you'll most likely have a fight of it, so he sent us as well!' Shouted Laurence through a speaking trumpet.  
Eragon nodded, and drew Brisingr in acknowledgement and salute.  
'Sé onr sverdar sitja hvass!' Called Eragon back, and Saphira crowed in agreement.  
'What?' Called Granby over the wind.  
'I said: may your swords stay sharp!' Called Eragon back.  
Granby waved in acknowledgement, as the haphazard and impromptu formation sped east, looking to bring the French to battle.

**A note on the Springfield Repeating Rifle, and Jack's Colts:  
****The Springfield Revolving Repeater wasn't invented 'til 1839.  
****But, as I haven't been taking too many liberties with history here (And Naomi Novik took more than a few with Australia's colonial history, not to mention some other events,) I think I've got enough poetic licence to get away with it.  
****This is Alternate history after all!**

**Also, I've got the next chapter done, but the purposes of giving myself a buffer-zone of a week to work on other things as well, you'll have to wait for the rescue operation. (Sorry!) :)**

**Now, for Story Alerting, I'd like to thank Adm. J Kirk McGill.**

**And for reviewing, I'd like to thank: Hideout Writer, ZombieChick422 and T2238.**

**So, 'til next time, when I've hopefully gone one ahead in terms of posts:**

**No One-liners.**


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter XXIV

Rescue

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

They flew quickly, but not to the point where they'd tire themselves pointlessly.  
By around eleven o'clock by Laurence's watch, they were out over the ocean.  
'I have them!' Shouted Murtagh from off to the left and slightly below and in front of Temeraire.  
'How far?' Asked Granby through the speaking trumpet.  
_Ten leagues, we should be upon them within three hours; Thorn and Saphira could be upon them in around two and a half if we left you to catch up._ Murtagh said.  
Laurence looked questioningly at Granby.  
'I don't set myself up at an aerial tactician Mr. Granby, what say you of Murtagh's plan?' Laurence asked.  
'A risky manoeuvre, stalling the French with a battle like that, and two against god-only-knows how many…'  
'It sounds an excellent idea to me, but then we would see none of the fighting, and Saphira and Thorn would have it all to themselves,' put in Temeraire.  
'No wait, I'm forgetting their abilities,' said Granby with a look of realisation, 'Eragon and Murtagh can stop bullets dead in the air, or send them ricocheting off of nothing, I've seen Eragon do it at any rate, and I wouldn't be surprised if they rolled out a welcome mat for boarders, what with their swordsmanship, and even then enemy beasts would have a hard time getting above and behind them or alongside in the first place the way they manoeuvre,' he added.  
'Very well, they shall go on ahead, and we'll hang back, catch them up, and roll up whatever is left of the enemy when we come upon them,' said Laurence. 'Mr Allan, signal to Jinx, Dulcia and Nitidus Murtagh's plan,' said Laurence, before briefly outlining it.  
This had scarcely been accomplished, before Saphira and Thorn increased their pace, outstripping the formation, and adding more distance the more he watched.  
'I hope this doesn't end in tears,' said Granby when they were only two iridescent specks in the distance.

* * *

Saphira and Thorn sighted their quarry short of an hour and a half later, flying hard.  
_Ease up a bit Saphira, we'll catch them soon enough, for now let's go for some more advantage, outclassed and outmatched we might have any individual among them, but they have us outnumbered and outgunned._ Said Eragon.  
There was a brief silence, before Angela contacted him.  
_You go into the clouds and come on them from above, we'll lure them into a fight, so they won't be watching for you._ Said Angela quickly.  
_Very well, be careful, and do what you can, if they're holding Vindicatus' captain on another dragon, see if you can't free him, and capture that dragon into the bargain; I'm sure Nasuada wouldn't begrudge the extra funds.  
_A silent acknowledgement was all the answer he needed.  
'Gregs, pass the word below, we're heading into the clouds to flank the enemy, if anyone drops _anything_ and gives us away, I'll personally drop them off Saphira's back, Ferris, make sure the riflemen are ready, Arya-' Eragon looked her in the eyes, 'the plan is we're going to free Vindicatus, I want you to board him and clear his back of any French,' said Eragon.  
'And what will you be doing?' Asked Arya.  
Eragon unslung his bow, drew two arrows and fitted one arrow to the string.  
'What I can.' He answered.

With only a minute's warning from Saphira to the crew, she beat up, and quickly entered the cloud layer.  
To keep the powder from becoming wet, Eragon cast a ward to dissuade the moisture from the rifle's muzzles.  
After a moment's consideration, he also cast a ward around the harness and the crew so they wouldn't freeze.  
After a further half-hour of flying, Thorn's defiant, resounding challenge echoed from below.  
_Now!_ Shouted Murtagh, and Eragon saw through Murtagh's eyes a man on an enemy dragon fall backward with an arrow in the middle of his forehead.

* * *

As Saphira rose into the belly of a cloud, Thorn increased his pace.  
The chase was on.  
_Get ready my friends, I do not intend on giving them any time to catch us until it is too late._ Said Thorn to everyone on his back and in his belly rigging.  
The crew couldn't have said they were comfortable with the telepathic contact, but hands gripped weapons tighter, and Murtagh pulled his own bow out and fitted an arrow.  
'Now remember, we want to draw as many of these bastards into fighting us as possible, and if we can get Angela to Vindicatus' captain, all the better; pick your targets and fire at will when you're in range, but try and pick off a man from a different dragon each.' Called Murtagh over the wind.  
He got many raised hands in acknowledgement, and several nods.  
'Are you mad? We'll be shot to ribbons!' Said Murtagh's most recent lieutenant, a young woman of roughly nineteen who went by the name Kaleen Mcbridey.  
'I've been called mad, but we'll be fine, if we do this right, they'll do more damage to one-another than us,' replied Murtagh calmly.  
_Vindicatus'__captain is on that dragon just off to the left of the backline's centre._ Reported Thorn to Murtagh.  
'Just what breed is Vindicatus anyway?' Asked Angela.  
'He's a Yellow Reaper, I was last posted at Edinburgh, so I'd know,' Mcbridey answered, checking her own pistols.  
'And what is the breed of the dragon just to the left of the centre of their backline?' Asked Murtagh, indicating the dragon Thorn had pointed out.  
Mcbridey pulled out a spyglass, and looked for herself.  
'Ah, that could be a problem. He,-unless I'm sadly mistaken,- is a Petit Chevalier, and Vindicatus is at the centre of that formation, between the front and backlines,' she said grimly. 'We'd best hope that either Excidium's or Mortiferus' formation is flying patrol out this way; even if Temeraire and the others catch up, they'd outnumber us by two dragons as a start, but with a Chevalier, we're in a whole different class of trouble. They can't hover or breath fire, but they can dish out a terrible mauling if they get a hold of another dragon.'

A further fifteen minutes, and Thorn was within striking range.  
If he went flat out from that point, he'd be on their enemies before they could react.  
With a defiant, resounding roar of challenge, Thorn barrelled forward as fast as he could.  
The effect was instantaneous, Murtagh could see confused aviators and dragons glancing around wildly.  
When they were a hundred feet behind the Petit Chevalier, a midwingman on it's back saw them, and began to shout, only for Murtagh's arrow to strike him between the eyes.  
The alarm was raised by now, and the formation broke, and attempted to reform.  
Judging that now was the best chance they'd have, Murtagh opened his mind wide.  
_Now!_ He shouted to Eragon, and moments later, as Thorn dodged to the side of the Chevalier after it attempted to strike, he pivoted midair and flew over the Chevalier's back.

* * *

A few rifle-shots went off, and three Frenchmen went sprawling to the dragon's back, but something else came down as well:  
In a mottled cloak, wearing flanged armour, and with her hûthvir ready, Angela landed lightly on the larger dragon's back alone.  
The volley had done for three of the topmen, and dealt a minor flesh-wound.  
The final ball had stuck in the harness.  
That left nine midwingmen, a lieutenant and the Captain on the Chevalier's back.

Angela immediately used the moment of surprise to cut a man's straps, and kick him off the dragon's back, then stab another through the throat, before spinning the hûthvir around herself at waist height and cutting open the bellies of two men behind her.  
A pistol-shot echoed and Angela glanced up to see the dragon's captain looking directly at her as she felt something whistle through her hair.  
He'd missed.

Angela didn't give him chance for a second shot, but dove to the side, and grabbed a signal strap, using it as a safety line to slide into the Chevalier's belly-rigging, putting both feet into a startled bellman's chest as she came in.  
She immediately identified Vindicatus' captain:  
He was tied hand and foot and was at the front of the belly rigging, being guarded by two midwingmen, and a man with a lieutenant's bars.

Angela again used the moment of surprise to clear herself some room, decapitating a man on her right, before reversing the arc, and severing another man's jugular. A step forward, and a pair of thrusts took down another two men, then she rushed the three guards.  
The right most died with one of the hûthvir's blades embedded in his chest, the lieutenant went staggering from a stinging slap, more from shock than anything else, and Angela buried a dagger in the third man's neck, before snatching his pistol as the lieutenant recovered.  
As he drew his pistol, and turned back to Angela, he found himself staring down the muzzle of a pistol, before his brain made a hasty exit out the back of his skull.  
He was lifted off his feet and fell in an awkward heap.

Now Angela threw the empty pistol, end-over-end to strike a man coming at her.  
He fell back and she used the opportunity to loot another three pistols:  
Two from the lieutenant's body and one from the right midwingman's.  
She jerked back as another man took a swing at her with a cutlass, scoring a hit to her upper left arm, thankfully only bruising due to her armour.  
He also managed to sheer off around three inches of her hair.  
Angela used the pistol in her left hand, and shot him in the chest, before wrenching her hûthvir free with a hideous slithering sound, before carving a nasty slash across another man's face, then running him through, and shoving him back.  
Another two men rushed her together, and one died to being stabbed between the kidneys, and the other took a kick in the groin, followed by having his skull split open.  
The hûthvir wasn't really an ideal axe, but it could be used along the same principle to some effect.

The three men left now didn't mess around.  
Angela had just taken down twelve men right in front of them, with very little effort.  
They drew their pistols, sighted and fired.  
The first one missed, his aim hadn't been the best.  
The remaining two were deadly accurate, but at the last moment, their shots shot off on diagonals, slamming instead into the forelegs of the Petit Chevalier.

* * *

A hundred metres away, Murtagh's vision flashed grey, and he involuntarily fired off a shot, which hit an enemy dragon, rather than his intended victim- an enemy aviator.

* * *

When they saw Angela stride forward, hûthvir at the ready, the three men looked at each other, then drew their cutlasses and threw them at their feet, before kneeling themselves.  
Angela took a small flask from her belt, and quickly forced the three men to drink, after which they promptly fell asleep.  
She then quickly hurried over to Vindicatus' captain, and cut his bindings.  
'Time we got up top Captain, we've still got to counter-capture this beast to make this worth the effort,' said Angela, handing the man a cutlass, and one of her captured pistols.  
'Excuse me madam, but what is going on?' Asked the man.  
'Well we're rescuing you obviously, now put this on and follow me,' said Angela quickly, forestalling anymore questions and handing Vindicatus' captain a iron ring imbued with wards.  
He did so with a bemused expression, before following Angela as she swung up the Chevalier's breast band.

* * *

Meanwhile, things were getting tough for Saphira.  
There were ten French dragons in the formation, and then there was Vindicatus.  
One and all they'd dropped in surprise when Saphira came diving out of the clouds, breathing fire.  
She'd swooped directly for Vindicatus, and deposited Arya, Gregs and two of her bellmen on his back, before catching hold of an enemy Pêcheur Rayé, and clawing it savagely as Eragon and her topmen shot at their opposites.  
Eragon also took the opportunity to deal with this first assailant by putting an arrow into it's wing.  
Afterwards, it broke off and flapped away a short distance, before another Pêcheur Rayé broke from the confusion and helped his wounded comrade away.  
Meanwhile, Eragon could see Angela was wreaking havoc in the belly-rigging of a big grey-white dragon with striations of pale gold, standing between the dragon's bellmen and a man bound as a captive.  
This dragon was staring around wildly, between Thorn and Saphira.  
The fact his formation was trying to reform and was also looking for further enemies added to the general confusion.  
Indecision and confusion were on the Alagaësian's side.

_Vindicatus' captain isn't here, we've cleared his back and netting, but his captain-  
__Is over on that big grey and gold one over there, Angela is dealing with that now._ Said Eragon in response to Arya's report.  
Saphira suddenly jerked to a halt, then Eragon was on his back as Saphira was tackled from the front.  
Looking up, Eragon could see their aggressor's jaws around Saphira's neck, and feel the scratches the attack was leaving.  
Eragon immediately drew the pistol Jack had given him, and emptied all six shots into the enemy dragon's jowl.  
It bellowed in pain and recoiled, allowing Saphira to tear herself free and blast her opponent with fire for his troubles.  
He cried out in pain, then turned and fled, even as Saphira singed his wings for vengeance.

''Ware boarders!' Called Ferris, and Eragon was immediately behind two of his topmen, cutlasses at the ready.  
Sure enough, another dragon had been close enough long enough for three men to jump across.  
They were engaged with the other men on Saphira's back at present, but it was obvious quickly that if Eragon hadn't of placed wards around his crew prior to the fight, they'd be dead by now, the experience of the French boarders made them canny and tough foes, and the green British midwingman were outclassed comprehensively.  
Eragon jammed his pistol back into it's holster,- no time to reload,- whipped up his bow drew an arrow, knocked, drew, aimed and fired in the span of two seconds, and one of the boarder's heads snapped back in a puff of blood with an arrow in the eye.  
One of the other men dropped from a blow to the side, and his aggressor took an arrow in the chest for his troubles.  
'Drop!' Shouted Eragon, and the last topman engaged with a boarder instantly obeyed, throwing himself down and backwards, and the last Frenchman dropped looking down with surprise at the arrow in his heart.

Saphira jerked again as she dodged sideways, before sending a burst of fire after another aggressor.  
She and Thorn were being herded together by the French, who had now realised that they weren't under attack by any great number, but by only two assailants, and those only midweight.

The initial confusion had been enough for them to free Vindicatus, and a quick message from Angela confirmed that she'd freed Vindicatus' captain, and were currently in the business of clearing the last of the men on the big grey-and-gold Petit Chevalier.  
But the superior numbers were beginning to tell, as Saphira and Thorn were forced together by the darting attacks by the French dragons.  
Evidently, Vindicatus had regained his captain as he was attempting to assist in evening the odds, but it was little use.

Angela was attempting to bully the Petit Chevalier into turning on the French, but all it would do was fly in a circle and stay out of the fighting.

Occasionally boarders, with more courage than sense would leap across, only to be shot down by Eragon or Murtagh, and when at last sufficient boarders had leapt to Saphira's back at one point, Eragon unclipped his straps, and before anyone could stop him, tore into the boarders with Brisingr blazing with blue flames burning along it's blade in his hands.  
'Enough of this, I'm the best swordsman currently on Saphira, now let's get out of this and try and-' Eragon broke off as with a roar, one of the French dragons barrelled down at them from above.  
And with no room to manoeuvre, Saphira was a sitting target.

* * *

'Temeraire! That Rayé there diving at Saphira! Get him!' Shouted Laurence urgently, and Temeraire obliged, and with a roar, slammed into the Pêcheur Rayé's side, sending them tumbling.  
They broke apart, and the Rayé came around for a second pass, and Temeraire turned to meet it.  
''Ware boarders!' Called Granby in alarm, as a Pêcheur Couronné darted in behind them, and several of it's bellmen dropped to Temeraire's back.  
One of them dropped right in front of Granby, and went to cut him down, but stopped in surprise when he saw Laurence's cutlass protruding from his chest.  
Granby finished the matter by slashing the man's straps.  
He nodded once to Laurence, before shooting a boarder ten paces away in the chest.  
Another several minute's frantic fighting later, and several wounds, -some of them serious,- and the call went up.  
'All clear!'

As two Poux-De-Ciels darted in to attempt the same manoeuvre, suddenly, one of them was intercepted by a ravening jet of fire and screamed terribly, causing Temeraire to hunch his shoulders in sympathy.  
The other was broadsided by a light green blur, and the two went tumbling through the air.  
Jinx, Nitidus and Dulcia had caught up.  
_Form up on signaller_ went up on Thorn's back, and instantly, Vindicatus, Saphira, Jinx, Nitidus, Temeraire and, -much to Laurence's surprise,- a very reluctant Petit Chevalier.  
The opposing formation, now greatly diminished, hesitated, then as they formed up, a call went up from the south.

They all turned to look, and there came a formation of ten dragons with a Longwing in the lead.  
The French took one last look, then turned tail and ran.  
A great sobbing cry went up from the Petit Chevalier as they went, which was drowned out by the ecstatic cheers from the British and the Alagaësians.

* * *

'By Jove, you've done well for yourselves this afternoon blacking the frog's eyes for them like that, even if you have been knocked about for your efforts,' observed the Captain on the Longwing Mortiferus, a slightly fat woman by the name of St. Germain.  
Her observation was accurate:  
Saphira and Thorn had both taken several minor wounds that were patently impossible to try and heal in midair, but thankfully were minor and could wait.  
Vindicatus had taken a long clawing down his side, which was even now being bandaged by his liberated crew.  
He was to be supported back to Loch Laggan by Temeraire, the only dragon in the haphazard formation capable of carrying his weight.  
Temeraire had been dealt a few scratches, but again these could wait, and had been patched in due course.  
The only three to escape uninjured from the fight had been Nitidus, Dulcia and Jinx by dint of arriving last to the battle.

'You can have all the credit for driving them off though, it looked like they were all for fighting to the death to rescue that one,' called Eragon, indicating the Petit Chevalier, who was flying in a circle, looking back anxiously at where Angela had one of the blades of her hûthvir to his captain's neck, and where his four surviving crew were also trussed to his harness with the bootlaces of their dead colleagues.  
'I don't doubt it, Bonaparte will have a fit when he finds out, and a handsome sire he'll make, you'll all be the toast of the breeders after this.' Agreed St. Germain.  
'If you hurry, you should be able to round up the rest of them and finish this properly, we have to be heading back for Loch Laggan now I'm afraid,' Interrupted Granby from Temeraire's back.  
He had a thoughtful, preoccupied look on his face, and Eragon got the feeling he'd be taking Gregs as his first lieutenant after all.

'Yes, that we will, mind you remember we showed up at the end, even if we don't catch these Frenchmen, and finish the thrashing you started, we're still entitled to some of the prize for taking him,' warned St. Germain, gesturing to the Chevalier.  
Without further conversation, the two formations split and headed their separate ways, Jinx, Dulcia and Nitidus shepherding their reluctant companion after them at a faster rate than he was inclined to go left to his own devices.

* * *

The flight back was relatively uneventful, though Angela was forced to threaten the Chevalier's captain into convincing his dragon to support Vindicatus when Temeraire began to tire.  
Thankfully, the man had a little understanding of English, and Angela, Murtagh, Arya and Eragon had set themselves to acquiring some understanding of French, and while none of them were as yet fluent, Angela knew enough to keep the man from formulating some underhanded skulduggery during the transfer.  
Other than that, the general mood was high spirits, and this was evident in Jinx's wont to put in the odd bit of acrobatics, much to the exhilaration of his crew, who were evidently used to such antics and found the stomach dropping dives, corkscrews and loops just a harmless bit of fun.

* * *

They landed back in the courtyard at the covert an hour before sunset, and deposited Vindicatus carefully in the courtyard to have his wounds tended too.

Afterward, they shepherded the Petit Chevalier to a large clearing, where they were met by Maximus, Lily, Immortalis, Messoria and Victoriatus, along with a armed guard of aviators.

The Chevalier was absolutely wretched as his Captain and crew were unloaded, chained and marched off to the dungeons in the keep, and only with great reluctance allowed a surgeon to excise the bullets from him, before beginning to chew sullenly on a cow.

It was to the utter indignation of the other dragons when they found out the secret to why Saphira and Thorn were immaculate, with not a scar to be seen despite the battles and skirmishes they'd fought in:  
'Of all the things,' said Messoria when she saw Eragon close the bite marks on Saphira's neck, leaving only unbroken scales and not a trace of the wound. 'That is just a cowards way out of it, and I must say you _are _vain to not bear the scars from your battles.'  
Saphira just shrugged.  
'If you want to bear the scars of your battles, that is your affair, but this saves me having to endure days and months of inactivity.' She replied.  
After Murtagh and Eragon had seen to Saphira and Thorn, who'd had the most numerous wounds, along with the wounds of their crewmen, they offered to heal the wounds of the others injured in the skirmish, and to their profound relief were informed that said injuries were minor, and needed no additional attention, and were best left to heal at their own pace.

* * *

Shortly after dinner, which had been more of a victory celebration for those involved in the skirmish, Eragon was sitting by himself in the officers club enjoying a quiet cup of coffee, and roundly cursing Gregs for forgetting to mention it was addictive.  
'Waiting for someone?' Asked Granby, coming over looking flushed, though not from the windburn of daily flying, but more the flush of having to explain the details of the skirmish repeatedly, which had evidently been blown way out of proportion.  
The prime suspects for this were Dyer's men or the younger midwingmen and ensigns who'd been present for the engagement.  
'No, just enjoying a rare moment of peace, but I take it you're here for a reason lieutenant?' Eragon enquired, already with a suspicion in mind.  
'Yes… you remember what you said the other day? About Captain Laurence?' Asked Granby.  
'I haven't forgotten, I take it you weren't able to find it in yourself to put aside your doubts about him?'  
Granby shook his head.  
'No, you were right about him, he mightn't be a born aviator, but I can't question that he cares a damn sight more for Temeraire than some care for dragons, and him not even being brought into the corps at seven like the rest of them-' Granby broke off, realising he was rambling. 'No, I came to tell you that Laurence offered me the post of his first lieutenant, I thank you for your offer regarding the post on your own crew, but again you were right about my having more experience with heavyweights, I just thought I'd let you know,' Granby explained.  
Eragon smiled warmly.  
'Well congratulations, I'm sure you'll do well with Temeraire and Laurence, and to your health,' said Eragon, raising his glass in a one-man toast.  
'Also, I thought I might give you a piece of advice regarding who to take for your own first lieutenant: Stick with your original decision, Gregs knows what he's about, and he's a steady chap, you couldn't ask for a better man to have at your back on a boarding either.'  
Eragon's smile broadened.  
'I saw that this afternoon, apart from Arya, his was the best blade work on Vindicatus' back, and I'll take your recommendation into consideration; I've still got to settle on the rest of my crew,-minus my ground crew,- but that's my affair.' replied Eragon with a touch of wry humour.

**Am I glad I wrote this chapter ahead of time?**

**You bet your back teeth I am, I've had an eventful week, and haven't had all that much time to write, so I've all but lost my lead of one chapter.**

**Still, I hope that battle was worth the wait.**

**Anyway, thanks for this time:**

**For Story alerting: sh0efrado.**

**For Reviewing: Hideout Writer, ZombieChick422 and T2238.**

**So, 'til next time, when my master-plan of getting ahead is hopefully back on track-**

**No One-liners, I go to all the trouble to make these chapters a decent length, and a good read to boot, the least you can do is give me an idea of where I'm getting it right.**


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter XXV

Good Tidings and an Old Acquaintance

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

The next week after the skirmish was a relatively quiet one:  
Temeraire was barred from flying to allow his wounds to heal, and spent most of his time eating or asleep, and the times he was awake, Laurence was to be found reading to him.  
Victoriatus, Messoria, Immortalis and Mortarius had all but worn themselves out assisting in ferrying wounded dragons while Saphira, Thorn, Temeraire and the three lightweights had been skirmishing.  
Celeritas took the opportunity to begin drilling Saphira and Thorn in formation work, but it became quickly obvious that with the foundations mastered, they were capable of adapting to formation work with instinctive ease.  
Saphira took the opportunity, and extra room in the training valley to begin drilling Galzra in all manner of sprints, dives and manoeuvres with the only practical application of increasing her stamina and strength.  
The same regime she'd put Thorn through, hovering in midair carrying boulders, circuits around the valley using only certain wing strokes or gliding, and a myriad of other exercises.  
In the meantime, Galzra was still growing, lengthening after her air-sacs had inflated, as well as putting on mass.  
By Keynes' reckoning, she was already five tonnes, and well on the way to six.

The day afterwards, Eragon was up early, and hauled out Saphira's saddle.  
_I think it's about time Noelfavrel got a taste of flying with Galzra._ Said Eragon, as he saddled Saphira.  
_And I also think we should go over what Glaedr and Oromis taught us to keep in practice.  
__You're just getting sick of flying with a harness._ Accused Saphira.  
_I am._ Admitted Eragon. _But you utterly hate it, it'll do you no end of good to use the full range of your ability for once._ He replied.  
_True little one, and a nice long flight will do us the world of good, as well as Noelfavrel and Galzra._ Agreed Saphira.  
'Oh,' said Galzra when Saphira awoke her and she saw the two of them, 'are we going to be practicing flying all day?' She asked.  
'If Celeritas will allow it then yes, but Saphira and I agree that it is about time Noelfavrel learned to fly with you.' Said Eragon.  
'Really?' Asked Galzra excitedly, 'oh this will be fun, here I'll wake him now and get him down here.'  
Her eyes unfocussed for a moment, then refocussed.  
'He's coming,' Galzra assured briefly.

Sure enough, five minutes later Noelfavrel came staggering out of the keep rubbing the back of his head.  
'You made me fall out of bed, what's this about?' Asked Noelfavrel grumpily.  
'Master Eragon says that you're flying with me today.' Said Galzra enthusiastically, oblivious to her rider's tone.  
Noelfavrel looked at Eragon startled.  
'Are you sure?' He asked.  
Eragon nodded.  
'Galzra is not a hatchling anymore she is near enough to a month old, and more than capable of bearing your weight, and you need to learn, we're dragon riders which inherently means that we fly with our partners.' Said Eragon sternly, then gave Noelfavrel a wry smile. 'If it makes you feel any better, you'll probably enjoy this a lot more than I enjoyed my first flight with Saphira, and at the end you won't end up with your legs chaffed raw.'  
Noelfavrel shivered, then proceeded to remove Galzra's harness.  
'Come on, we're going down to see Murray, he's been keeping hold of the saddle Brom made for Saphira for me.'

* * *

'Morning Skipper, Noelfavrel, what brings you two down here on this fine morning?' Asked Murray, taking a draft out of a steaming cup of coffee at his side, before turning his attention once more to going over Saphira's harness.  
'We came to dig out the light saddle I told you to find a place for, Saphira and I intend to have Noelfavrel flying with Galzra today, and the harness she has is wholly unsuited to the type of flying we'll be engaging in,' Answered Eragon calmly.  
Murray snorted.  
'I'm surprised it still fits, you haven't got a ground crew of your own yet have you?' Murray asked Noelfavrel.  
'No I don't, most of the midwingmen and ground crewmen have been giving me sideways looks since they caught wind that Galzra was changing into an Ethereal like Thorn and Saphira,' replied Noelfavrel, using Howe's term for the type of dragon Thorn and Saphira were called in this world.  
'Can't say I'm surprised, and can't say I don't share the sentiment but…' Murray shrugged, shook his head and went into the workshop, emerging a few minutes later with the light saddle rolled up in his arms.  
'This thing is bloody ingenious; any courier captain would pay in gold for something like, for their own comfort as much as their dragons.' Said Murray, handing the saddle off to Noelfavrel. 'Discounting Rankin because he's backwards and would never go out of his way to improve Levitas' comfort, even if Captain Blood jammed one of those fancy pistols of his up his nose.' Added Murray darkly.  
'What's he done for you to be smearing him all of a sudden?' Asked Eragon curiously, but with a firm undercurrent.  
'Found him giving Kincaid a dressing down the other day for chatting with Levitas, when I went and asked him what he was about he started on me, telling _me_ to keep the crewmen I was responsible for under control, and to keep Galzra away from Levitas; Dumb bastard, been in the Corps his entire life and holds the admiralty's view of dragons as dumb beasts, disgraceful.' Replied Murray.  
Noelfavrel shifted uncomfortably.  
'Look, tell Gideon I appreciate him keeping Galzra company when Eragon's teaching me letters or something, but tell him if it's going to get him in trouble like that not to worry; I doubt Rankin would be foolish enough to try and cow Galzra for talking with Levitas,' he said in evident discomfort.  
'I'm not the only one going over Rankin's head, and besides there are only so many cartridges a man can make before he goes nuts and starts trying to make shit explode in spectacular fashion, so don't worry yourself!' Called Gideon cheerily from inside the workshop.

* * *

'Alright, guide her with your thoughts and knees, and when she moves, lean in; and whatever you do, don't let go!' Called Eragon from Saphira's back.  
Galzra stood next to Saphira as Noelfavrel strapped himself to the saddle, which had been thoroughly gone over by Eragon, checked for brittleness, tears or any other problems that might affect the integrity of the saddle.  
_You ready?_ Asked Galzra, with evident excitement.  
Despite the fact she possessed racial memory like Saphira, she was still inclined to act her actual age.  
Noelfavrel took a deep, nervous breath, and let it go between clenched teeth.  
_Not really, but let's do it.  
_This was all the confirmation Galzra needed.  
Noelfavrel felt the tensing of Galzra's muscles, then his stomach fell away as she leapt into the air, beating her wings powerfully.

Saphira followed a moment later, quickly gaining on her energetic pupil.  
Within five minutes, they were flying through some of the more remote parts of the mountains surrounding Loch Laggan.  
_This isn't so-_ Noelfavrel experienced a moment of dizzying vertigo as Galzra rolled right over mid-air.  
_Don't do that!_ Exclaimed Noelfavrel as Galzra righted herself.  
_Well if you rather I get shot or broadsided in a battle I won't; Saphira taught me that's the easiest manoeuvre to avoid an attack, whether it's an enemy who can fly, a flight of arrows, or a volley of bullets._ Replied Galzra.  
Noelfavrel sighed, conceding the point, and concentrated on controlling his churning stomach.  
_Relax and enjoy it, you're not going to fall, I'll catch you if you do._ Assured Galzra confidently.  
Noelfavrel did relax fractionally.  
He'd seen Galzra drop a log from a height and dive after it, catching it before it hit the ground during one of the exercises Saphira had put her through.  
When she'd presented it back to Saphira, there was no evidence of damage from her talons either.

They flew on in silence for a while longer, Saphira and Eragon hanging back and watching in case Galzra might come across trouble, but it soon became obvious she knew what she was doing.  
_She's fast_. Commented Eragon.  
_According to Celeritas, Winchesters are so fast that passengers unaccustomed to flying with them often say they feel as if they're in danger of being ripped off by the wind; but you're right, she is fast. _Agreed Saphira.  
_Although, not as fast as me._ Added Saphira hastily.  
_Jealous?_ Asked Eragon.  
_No. I'm just stating a fact._ Said Saphira, as if she were offended.  
It was true; while Galzra was fast, Saphira could out-pace her over distance and in a sprint, although that was likely to change if Galzra's natural ability increased with her apotheosis.

* * *

They returned to the covert around mid-day, tassel-haired, ruddy-cheeked and in Noelfavrel's case eager to continue.  
'Tomorrow perhaps, but most definitely the next time we can manage it.' Agreed Eragon when Noelfavrel asked after when they could fly again.  
While they were talking, Angela came bustling out of the keep and came over.  
'Ah, there you are, Nasuada contacted us at the behest of Roran, apparently there's news the two of you will find of immense interest,' said Angela brightly.  
Eragon and Noelfavrel looked at each other, before following Angela into the keep.

* * *

When Noelfavrel and Eragon were safely secluded in Eragon's room, Eragon quickly invoked the communication-variant scrying on his dressing-table mirror, and when the mirror cleared from the familiar 'black-out', they saw Roran standing in the command pavilion alone.  
'Eragon, it's good to see you again,' said Roran with evident warmth, 'and you haven't gotten yourself killed yet, which is even better.' Added Roran.  
Eragon gave his cousin a thin smile.  
'And I'm glad to see you weren't killed in that assault the empire sent after the Varden.' He replied.  
Roran also exchanged a greeting with Noelfavrel, as well as some inconsequential gossip with the two of them.

'I suppose you're wondering why I wanted to talk to you two, and why Nasuada isn't present to hear it,' said Roran after he'd exhausted his store of titbits.  
'That did cross my mind, not bad news I hope?' Asked Eragon in genuine concern.  
Roran shook his head emphatically.  
'No on the contrary, it's the best news we've had in a while, Elaine finally had her child, a healthy baby girl,' said Roran.  
'Well, my congratulations to her and Horst, how long ago was this?' Asked Eragon; the news wasn't all that surprising, Elaine had been overdue, but it was none-the-less happy news in the midst of all the conflict.  
'Just two days previously, I only got back from a patrol yesterday, and I didn't hear until this morning, and when I went to give my congratulations to Horst, he said to pass onto you two that if you can be spared over there you're invited to a celebration dinner Horst is holding to mark the occasion.' Replied Roran.  
Noelfavrel glanced at Eragon, with a half-pleading look.  
'When is this dinner?' Asked Eragon.  
'Tonight, if you can manage to get away,' replied Roran.  
'I'll find some excuse, a break like this will do us good I think, not to mention Gringlok and Ornthrond, a day off wouldn't hurt them, they've been looking all the more haggard as time goes on,' said Eragon.  
'I'll let Horst know, of course Saphira is welcome to come as well.' Added Roran.  
'What about Galzra?' Asked Noelfavrel, sounding slightly offended.  
'Oh yes I forgot you're a rider now aren't you,' said Roran apologetically with a start, 'it shouldn't be a problem, I'll let Horst know that Galzra will be coming as well.' Promised Roran.  
'Oh, and before I forget, Nasuada would like you to question the two Frank riders we captured three weeks back, we haven't got anything useful out of them, or their dragons, although with one of them it isn't surprising, they can't speak the common-tongue let alone understand it, and the other two refuse to talk.' He added with a tone that bespoke he was impressed.  
'They haven't been tortured have they? I thought Nasuada said they were little more than boys,' asked Eragon with some concern.  
Roran shook his head. 'No, Nasuada wouldn't sanction the torture of a rider, but questions and telepathic examination are different quantities, and they're proving to be stubbornly resistive, both to the questioning, and the telepathy,' he said.

* * *

'A night off from guarding the city?' Asked Gringlok, perking up noticeably from his bleary meal when Eragon asked him if he'd let them do the duty for the night.  
'Bless you Shadeslayer, these endless nights of guard duty 'ave been killing me, a day off is exactly what Ornthrond and I need,' he added with the air of a dwarf who'd just downed his first tankard of ale in a month.  
'And I 'ope ye enjoy yer friend's feast to boot,' added Gringlok with a sly wink.

* * *

'It isn't a request I've heard very often, but I am satisfied with how you and Saphira are progressing, and Galzra and Noelfavrel are coming along well enough as well, a day won't make any difference one way or another, and with most of the dragons resting after all the excitement earlier this week, you won't be missed, I hope you enjoy yourselves.' Said Celeritas when Eragon put his request to the training master.  
'Thank you master, is there anything you would like me to pass on to Lady Nasuada while I am there?' Asked Eragon with a small bow.  
'Nothing that I can really send except assurance that this formation is coming along well enough, better than I'd expected certainly, even if six months is a dreadfully short period to be training a formation like this, I think we'll manage it.' Replied Celeritas, then dismissed Eragon with a wave of a taloned hand.

* * *

'I should only be gone for today but even so, I'd like you to put the crew threw some exercises: gunnery, swordcraft, fist-fighting, knife fighting, I'm not really fussed, just make sure they work, they mightn't be flying today because of this, but the crew _need_ to practice their fighting skills, the display on Monday has made that fact abundantly clear; if I hadn't placed wards around them, the French would've hacked them apart.' Said Eragon to Gregs, after he found the man showing the course of the battle of earlier in the week to a courier captain.  
'Don't worry, I'll see to it that they train, and indeed, after that display I reckon they'll embrace the challenge; stiff fights like that are the ones that get an aviator a chance at a hatchling quick as a wink, but they're useless if you get yourself killed in the process.' Replied Gregs, draining his mug, then turned back to the courier captain.  
'So, after Temeraire, Dulcia, Nitidus and Jinx caught up, and evened the odds out a bit more, the French broke away, and formed up into a battleline, which we mirrored,-with the edition of that Petit Chevalier out in that clearing over the way,- and we were ready for one helluva fight when Mortiferus and his formation showed up on patrol; when the French saw them coming, they headed for the hills like half the Corps was coming for them.' Continued Gregs to the courier off-handed.

* * *

With everyone who needed to know informed of his intentions, Eragon met Murtagh, Arya, Noelfavrel and Galzra down by the lake shore with Saphira.  
The Charm of Crossing, as it was coming to be known was cast promptly, and Eragon, Noelfavrel, Saphira and Galzra crossed through to Alagaësia.  
It was a strange feeling, like walking through a cool sheet of water.  
Eragon briefly entertained the thought that if they did the same thing with a mirror, it would feel like he'd fallen through a window.  
Then they were through, into the cool evening of Fienster.  
They were met in the keep courtyard by Nasuada, the ever-present Nighthawks, King Orrin, the six elves who'd remained with the Varden, and also Roran and Birgit.  
Eragon smiled warmly, and stepped forward, embracing his cousin.  
'It's good to see you again Eragon,' said Roran warmly.  
'Likewise, and it's good to be back here, even if it is only for a short time,' replied Eragon as they broke apart.

They exchanged greetings with Birgit, Nasuada and King Orrin, while Galzra split her time between staring curiously at the two urgal members of the current Nighthawk watch, and at Birgit after Noelfavrel introduced her as his mother.  
For her part, Galzra was the subject of great interest to the everyone present.  
They'd heard of course, that Noelfavrel was now a rider in his own right, but Galzra proved it.  
And dragons still being a rare sight in Alagaësia, she was going to attract interest.

When the introductions and greetings were finished, Nasuada turned to Eragon.  
'Before you go to catch up with your friends, do you mind accompanying me to see our prisoners?' Asked Nasuada, 'I can't torture them, for a multitude of reasons, mainly because I can't stomach the notion, and they're proving stubborn in terms of questioning.'  
'What have you been doing to try and make them talk?' Asked Eragon.  
'In the case of the first one we took, it makes little difference either way, he doesn't know a word of the common tongue; as for the second one, we question him relentlessly, and Trianna has tried twice to get into his mind, but she failed both times. And naturally we've kept them separate from their dragons, and those two from each other, and those two refuse to talk as well.' Replied Nasuada wearily. 'I'm seriously considering handing the lot of them off to the British for this bounty Angela mentioned, those two dragons are chewing through our supplies at nearly the same rate as Saphira, although at least in her case we could trust Saphira to hunt for herself, these two however we dare not let off the ground for fear that they'll go to the empire to tell all they've seen.' She added.

Eragon nodded, then turned to Noelfavrel.  
'I'll leave you to go and see everyone, I'll catch up when I'm done here.' Said Eragon quietly.  
'Yes master,' said Noelfavrel.  
Without the need to avoid the interest of the aviators, Noelfavrel slipped into the more formal mode of address easily.  
Roran left with Birgit, Galzra and Noelfavrel, along with three of the elves in tow.  
Eragon turned back to Nasuada.  
'You wouldn't mind showing me to where you're holding my distant cousins would you?' He asked smoothly.

* * *

Rafale glared at the opposite wall of the room he'd been put in.  
It had been nearly a week since he'd woken and found himself a captive of the rebels.  
Since then he'd been questioned twice a day by an attractive woman maybe eight years Rafale's senior, and on two separate occasions, she'd attempted to break into his mind, both attempts Rafale had thwarted by the application of the defensive techniques that the empire's magicians had shown him.  
They were bare-basics, and rudimentary, but left with next to nothing else to do, Rafale had been practicing.  
With a groan, he picked himself up off his bed, lurched to the window stuck his head out and looked up, then swore quietly.  
Nearly five o'clock, his jailers wouldn't be coming for another hour, and he was hungry.  
Not to mention the fact he was missing Sanguinora, his jailers had the good grace to let him know she was eating, and hadn't tried anything rash, that her wounds were healing from the dishing the tame, telepathic feral had administered to her, and that so long as she kept behaving herself she wouldn't be harmed.  
They were less forthcoming about the fate of Champion and Amitius.

He looked dully down at the ground.  
He was on the second story of a small storage building,-a granary or some such he was fairly certain,- with his room hastily converted to a shabby, but not uncomfortable prison.  
It wasn't too bad as prisons went either:  
A small bed with a straw stuffed mattress, with a warm blanket for a covering.  
A small table and chairs slightly battered, but otherwise in good condition.  
And, well lit and roomy, with an excellent view of a market square below.  
But it was a prison none-the-less:  
Two guards at the main entrance if you don't mind, along with two below his window, and another two at the door.

Rafale turned away from the window, and nearly fell out of it in surprise to see a man standing in the doorway, along with the dark-skinned rebel leader Nasuada, who'd spoken with him shortly after he'd awoken.  
'Not planning on attempting an escape were you?' Enquired the stranger, stepping into the room and taking a seat at the table.  
Rafale noted that the guards closed the door now the stranger was inside.  
Rafale didn't answer.  
'It'd be useless anyway, the Nighthawks take their oath to guard Lady Nasuada seriously, along with their duty to guard you and that other one, Luck Champion was it?' Wondered the stranger aloud.  
'What do you know of Champion?' Asked Rafale cautiously.  
The stranger fixed Rafale with a enigmatic gaze.  
'That he doesn't speak a word of English, that he is confined as are you, and barred from seeing his dragon, as are you, and that he refuses to talk, just like you do.' Replied the stranger.  
The mention of 'English', caught Rafale's attention, so far he'd only heard the rebels and the imperials refer to the language as 'the common tongue', and from what Rafale had seen, it did seem to be something of a universal language between the different factions and races.  
'Who are you?' Asked Rafale quietly.  
'Depends who you ask,' said Eragon easily. 'Ask the British, and I am an aviator captain of no greater fame than being the captain on a dragon which can breath fire and hover; ask the Varden, the dwarves or the elves, and I am the first free dragon rider for a hundred years, and the only hope of ousting Galbatorix from his ill-gotten throne.'  
'What is your name then?' Asked Rafale, changing tack.  
'My name is Eragon, who might you be? Hmm, _Captain?_' Asked Eragon, putting a mocking tone on the title.  
Rafale bristled. 'I am Captain Rafale Lefebvre on Sanguinora, sir, in France's glorious _Armee de l'aire._' He replied.  
'Well you're an awful long way away from home then, in another world where you have no business being, caught in a war being fought to oust a mad man and a traitor, and the captive of a resistance movement for the past three weeks. Said Eragon, leaning forward on the table, his eyes never leaving Rafale, 'and in all that time, you've been separated from your dragon. She is alone, miserable, and with only the indifferent shelter of a converted stable for comfort; she is being as well looked after as you are, but she only really wants to be with you.'  
'Thank you for spelling it out _sir_, I already _knew_ all that, and here's something else: It's not about to change, no matter what I do.' Snapped Rafale scornfully.  
Eragon leaned back, still regarding Rafale.  
'Don't be so sure.' Eragon replied calmly, 'if you tell me what I want to know, I can arrange for you to be kept with your dragon, on the condition that you're under the supervision of one of the elven spell casters with the Varden; and it will be in considerably better quarters than you're currently lodged in, I can assure you.'

* * *

Outside in the hallway, Nasuada was beginning to wonder if it had been a wise idea to let Eragon interrogate the French rider alone.  
Granted, she'd agreed to let him use the terms he was offering as leverage, but she did feel he was laying it on a bit thick appealing to the boy's affection for his dragon.  
And there was the chance he offered terms she hadn't ratified, but she doubted it; what Eragon was currently offering was a huge improvement of his current situation, along with his dragon's.

* * *

'Before I say anything, what happened to Luc Champion and Amitius?' Asked Rafale again.  
'They, neither of them, can speak a word of English as I said, but Champion's mind was an easy one to plunder for information, although there is little enough of that due to the fact he wasn't paying attention to anything of import.' Replied Eragon smoothly, 'they're well, confined separately naturally, and in perfect health as I understand it; now to the meat of the matter, if you wish for me to arrange the alternatives I outlined, you must answer the questions I have.' Stated Eragon. 'And also know that should you refuse to talk, I can also arrange to make things decidedly uncomfortable for you, not to mention Sanguinora.'  
The unspoken threat made the blood drain from Rafale's face.  
He was silent for a long moment, then sat down opposite Eragon.  
'What do you want to know?' Asked Rafale reluctantly.

* * *

'An interesting week you had then, and that sounds like quite a brawl,' said Horst as Eragon finished his telling of the battle they'd fought earlier that week.  
'It wasn't like any we'd fought against Thorn or Glaedr that's for sure,' replied Eragon, before taking a mouthful of cordial. 'And you have my most hearty congratulations on your most recent to your family.' Added Eragon with real warmth.  
Horst smiled warmly as well.  
'It is a good thing during these dark times certainly, and Elaine counts us blessed that she didn't lose the child.' He said.  
'Do you wish for me to give her my blessing?' Asked Eragon seriously.  
Horst shook his head. 'No, a great bounty it might be, but the risk is too high, Elva lives mainly by herself, but we see her often enough, it might've been unintentional, a mere mistake on a single syllable on your part, but Elaine and I won't risk it.' The smith replied.  
'Fair enough.' Said Eragon with a nod.

The party was in full swing in a small square on the south side of the city, and most of the villagers of Carvahall had been invited.  
It was a friendly, convivial atmosphere, and it also had an air of general exultation, as well as celebration.  
While the party was being held by Horst to celebrate the birth of his daughter, it had also expanded slightly to a celebration of Noelfavrel's becoming a rider.  
After the dinner, Noelfavrel found himself the subject of fascination of the other villagers, leaving him wrong footed as he wasn't used to being treated as an equal by them.  
Galzra was also experiencing something of a novelty, in the form of the city itself, along with the respect of the elves, and found herself the object of an equal curiosity engendered by her ability to speak vocally.

After the obligatory bouts of quarterstaff fights, recitations of ballads and other entertainments, and everyone had finally left, Eragon lingered a while longer along with Horst and Elaine, along with their newborn daughter.  
'I respect that you do not seek my blessing for your daughter, but I do have a gift to give anyway,' said Eragon, digging in a pouch at his belt, before pulling out a small dragon-statue fashioned from granite.  
'I carved this from an outcrop of rock at the lake near where Saphira and I are currently staying in the other-world, and spelled it as a guardian for your daughter when Roran gave me the news.' Said Eragon slightly self-consciously, 'all that remains to be done is to awaken it, which you can do with the words: 'Sé orúm skulblaka stenr hávr sharjalví lífs'.' Said Eragon, and as he did, the elaborately carved dragon came to life.  
It stretched itself, fanned it's wings, then leapt from Eragon's hand, before gliding to Elaine's shoulder.  
'And to send it into sleep once more, just say 'slytha'.' said Eragon, and the dragon settled itself on Elaine's shoulder and turned to an inanimate object again.  
'It's a fine trinket, but aside from that, what can it do?' Asked Albriech, impressed despite what he felt was a little bit of showy arrogance on Eragon's part.  
'I spelled it to protect you all, if that stone dragon is awake and you are threatened, it will fight to protect you.' Replied Eragon.  
'Something else you learnt from the elves?' Asked Horst.  
'No, I learnt this one from Trianna, her bracelet has a similar enchantment.' Explained Eragon.  
'Well, your gift is appreciated, I just hope we'll see you safely back here another time.' Said Horst, clapping Eragon on the shoulder.

* * *

After the party had dispersed, Noelfavrel found Galzra sitting incongruously on top of the ramparts of the keep, regarding the city in the light of the full moon.  
'You enjoy yourself tonight?' Asked Noelfavrel, clambering over Galzra's back before slumping gratefully against her side.  
'Oh, it was enjoyable, those elves were very kind, they even let me have one of those pastries that you like so much at Loch Laggan, you're right, they are very tasty, and they served me cooked meat as well, and it was pleasant talking to your mother and siblings, but what about your father? Was he on watch with the Varden's soldiers?' Asked Galzra curiously.  
She glanced around startled as she felt Noelfavrel stiffen, as if struck.  
'Noelfavrel?' Asked Galzra in concern.  
She could feel he was experiencing some feeling he'd buried deep a long while back.  
She prudently let him deal with it in his own time.  
Things like that were best left to be sorted out by one person.  
'My father's dead,' said Noelfavrel at last, 'he died shortly before we abandoned Carvahall, killed by Galbatorix's soldiers in a drunken bar fight, then-' Noelfavrel broke off and fell silent again.  
Galzra caught a quick glimpse of a hunched, black-robed figure from Noelfavrel's memory, and coiled herself comfortingly around him.  
'They can't hurt you, not while I'm here.' Said Galzra soothingly.  
'They're dead now too. Eragon, Saphira and Roran killed them nearly three months ago.' Replied Noelfavrel.  
'I'm sorry, I didn't know.' Apologised Galzra quietly.  
Noelfavrel smiled grimly.  
'You do now.' He said in a voice as grim as his smile.

* * *

Meanwhile, Eragon was in the keep, conferring with Nasuada and Orrin.  
'From what I can tell the aviators being sent to aid us are steady folk, but I can't adequately say how they'll react to some things here, the urgals for example, but something more worrying is the fact that practically none of them are used to the sort of adoration the riders received, dragons are feared by the British, but from what I've seen the fear is unwarranted, even so they live on the fringe of society, sneered at and keeping to themselves for the most part; it might be an idea to try and keep any faction from insinuating their way into the confidence of them, or better yet keep them independent from any group whatsoever, as Ajihad originally meant for myself and Saphira to be.' He said after Orrin asked his opinion on them.  
'And what about these dragons? What do you think of them?' Asked Nasuada.  
'They have their own personalities, but for the most part they're inquisitive, and well mannered; as far as combat skill goes, they have their own abilities, and their own potential advantages in battle.' Eragon replied. 'Noctus can spit a burning poison, which he can also use as venom in a bite, Rosarias and Victoriatus,-the two heavy-weights of the formation,- would be able to shred Galbatorix's soldiers with ease, even painless soldiers would be hard-pressed to survive their attacks; Mortarius and Vindexia are of the most common sub-species of dragon in the British employ, and as Angela has already said are all-rounders.'  
'What about this maverick Powys mentioned? Captain Blood?' Prompted Orrin.  
Eragon thought.  
'From my experience with him his reputation isn't entirely unwarranted, but he's honest, knows his work and is a competent fighter. As for Jinx, of the six dragons being sent, that one is probably the most alike in terms of intelligence as Saphira. In terms of combat skill, he's fast, and a canny fighter.' He replied.  
'And the one who gifted you with that Black Powder weapon.' Observed Nasuada.  
Eragon shrugged.  
'If it was a bribe, it was unsuccessful, but incredibly useful.' He replied.  
'Well, it's good to know that our otherworldly allies aren't short-changing us, but there is another matter that needs attending too.' Said Nasuada, changing the subject.  
'The dragon we took the other day,' Eragon guessed. 'Do you want us to hang on to him to turn him to our own purpose, or hand him over to the British?' He asked.  
'That wasn't what I meant, but if were to take him for ourselves, we'd have to put him under the care of the elves, we can't spare the supplies it takes to feed two of their lightweights, let alone a heavyweight.' Replied Nasuada  
'The egg.' Tried Eragon, guessing.  
'Correct, Islanzadí has sent a potential candidate, he will be returning with you; Islanzadí also requested that should the final egg refuse to hatch for him, that you'll do what you can to see to it that he gets put to another dragon.' Ellaborated Nasuada.  
'And who might this elf be?' Asked Eragon.  
Nasuada glanced meaningfully over Eragon's shoulder.  
Eragon turned, and set eyes on an elf he hadn't seen since before he'd left Ellesméra.  
He had his first two fingers to his lips, then lowered his hand and spoke.  
'Atra esterní ono thelduin, Argetlam.' Said Vanir politely.

**And enter Vanir from way out left-field.**

**Bet no-one saw that coming.**

**Okay, thanks for this time around:**

**For Story Alerting, I'd like to thank: Twitchel.**

**For Author Alerting, I'd like to (Again) thank: Twitchel.**

**For the Favourite Story add, I'd like to (yes, again) thank: Twitchel.**

**For reviewing, I'd like to thank: Twitchel (twice), Hideout Writer, ZombieChick422 and T2238.**

**And also a special mention to Twitchel for the four adds and two reviews. I really appreciate it.**

**So, I'll see you next week, same place, 'til then:**

**No One-liners.**


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter XXVI

The Folly of Vanir

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

'Just what was your mother thinking?' Asked Eragon in an undertone of Arya.  
They'd left Vanir back at the covert under the watchful eyes of Solembum and Angela, while they went down to the lake with Saphira, Temeraire, Galzra, Lily, Maximus and Levitas, along with the crews of the larger dragons.  
It was the first opportunity Eragon had had to talk to Arya privately, out of earshot of Vanir since Eragon had brought Vanir back with him after impressing an understanding on the elf that he'd have to unbend his manners, pride, not start a diplomatic incident over Levitas' treatment that they could ill-afford, and not kill Murtagh and Thorn. -As much as Eragon understood the sentiment, having felt it himself and also having it come from Glaedr, who upon learning of their presence, his eldunarì blazed so bright Eragon had to cover by saying he'd been practicing magic, and had misjudged the result of a spell.-  
That had been three days previously.  
'She wants a representative of our race in the new order of the riders, and Vanir was the most promising candidate out of all the young elves present who weren't too old, although I do share your opinion that she could probably have found someone less easily provoked and more tolerant, I'll be living in mortal fear he calls Rankin out for a duel if he finds out who Levitas' captain is, or that he kills someone, or in some way, shape or form starts a war with these British, at least if that egg doesn't hatch for him, which I think highly unlikely despite the degree of bias towards elves among riders.' Replied Arya calmly.  
_Not unlikely, certain not to occur._ Said Saphira. _This last dragon is asleep, he has been so for the past two weeks, and I don't think he means to awaken until someone decides to talk to him._ She added to the two of them.  
_How do you know?_ Asked Eragon curiously.  
_The same way Galbatorix knew this last dragon is male, I listened to his thoughts._ Replied Saphira.  
_Did he say anything to you in return?_ Asked Eragon.  
_I didn't speak with him, and he didn't speak with me; he was asleep._ Answered Saphira slowly.  
_There's no need to talk down to me, I thought you might've touched his mind when he was awake._ Said Eragon.

'What's got you two holding a conference then?' Asked Berkley, noticing them.  
'Vanir, Queen Islanzadí's candidate for the egg in our possession.' Replied Arya.  
'The thin one with long, dark hair?' Asked Berkley, frowning.  
'Yes, why?' Asked Eragon, dreading the answer.  
'Heard him talking with Levitas the other day, from what I heard I think he was trying to find out who Levitas' captain is.' Berkley replied.  
'Damn it, Levitas, please tell me you didn't tell Vanir who your captain is,' asked Eragon urgently of Levitas, who'd had just come out of the lake from his swim.  
'No, he wanted to hurt my captain, he was very kind despite that, but when we'd finished talking, he looked confused and angry.' Replied Levitas.  
Eragon and Arya exchanged a look.  
'I think he'll listen to you more readily than me, Vanir is liable to think I'm shielding Rankin because we're both human.'  
As Eragon had taken the precaution of altering his facial features until they were less elven before arriving in Britain, this was a point that Vanir and he had avoided for fear of rekindling their original rivalry.  
'Agreed.' Said Arya quietly.

The next out of the water were Saphira and Galzra, who did so to avoid being swamped by the waves Temeraire and Maximus were raising in a boisterous water-fight.  
'That was fun.' Said Galzra.  
'A pity you can't dive very deep with those air-sacs of yours, the bottom of the lake is a rather interesting sight.' Commented Saphira, then walked a little distance away and shook herself vigorously, sending droplets of water flying.

'Why are you so concerned about Vanir anyway?' Asked Harcourt, as Arya and Eragon rejoined the group of captains now their conversation wasn't a private matter.  
'Because as we've been making known, the elves revere dragons uniformly, and they fought bitterly against the forsworn during the fall of the riders; the forsworn killed any dragon,-bound or otherwise,- or rider they met, Vanir is young by the standards of the elves, and hot blooded.' Explained Eragon.  
'He's also rather rash, despite what he likes to think, and his self-control could stand improvement.' Added Arya.  
'Ah.' Said Berkley nodding slowly. '_That _would be a shit storm and a half, even though most folk wouldn't care if Rankin were hung, drawn and quartered.'  
'You're afraid Vanir will kill Captain Rankin if he finds out about his treatment of Levitas.' Clarified Laurence.  
'Yes, although it's nothing personal; but if Vanir were to kill Rankin it would mean we could say goodbye to any chance of a formation going to Alagaësia to help even the odds against Galbatorix and Napoleon, along with any chance of acquiring dragon eggs, and it would mean an utter nightmare for me having to try and placate the admiralty.' Replied Arya, rubbing her temples at the mere thought.

Their conversation moved away from Vanir, and turned instead to the subject of the Petit Chevalier that Laurence and Eragon had been involved in capturing earlier in the week.  
'Nasuada is of the opinion that were we to take him on, we'd have to put him under the care of the elves, the Varden are hard-up for supplies as is,-what with the pair of scouts they captured three weeks back,- and they'd have to send him to them the long way around, via Surda, the Beor Mountains, then across the plains to Du Welden Varden, then across most of the forest to reach the city, all told a journey of roughly six months travelling light.' Said Eragon when Laurence raised whether the Varden would try and take control of the dragon.  
'That sounds like an incredible journey.' Commented Harcourt.  
Eragon nodded.  
'Near enough to three thousand miles all told, and you wouldn't credit the leg through the Beors, those are the largest mountains you're ever likely to come across anywhere.' He said.  
'But surely with such a consideration they'd just let us have him.' Said Laurence, 'and you never actually answered my question.'  
'As it was Angela who captured him, its up to her to decide whether or not we hand him in for the bounty, and if she chooses not to, then its more than likely that if he does go to one of your breeding grounds, the admiralty will be paying us for his loan.' Replied Arya.  
_I've been here too long._ She thought to herself with a mental shake of her head.  
Berkley looked at her in askance.  
'That's just-' He spluttered.  
'The admiralty would never go for it.' Said Laurence with conviction.  
'Either way, its of little import at the moment.' Said Eragon, before turning to observe the scene.

The others followed his example, although only Arya appreciated the beauty of it as much as Eragon.  
Maximus, Lily and Temeraire were lounging on the shore as their ground crews went about washing them down, and talking among themselves.  
Saphira, Levitas and Galzra also occasionally added their own comments, but for the most Levitas was too busy enjoying the attention being payed him as well as his own bath, and Saphira was busy grooming herself, and much to Eragon's amusement Galzra was trying to emulate her, and persisting in it even though she didn't have the technique as well as Saphira.  
Each of them saw something different in the scene, although it was Laurence who was happiest, at seeing Temeraire finally accepted among the other dragons.

* * *

His happiness lasted right up until they landed in the courtyard again, to be met by Rankin, wearing his evening dress, tapping the straps of his personal harness against his leg in very obvious irritation, and Levitas gave an alarmed hop as he landed  
'What do you mean by flying off like this?' Rankin asked, not even waiting for Hollin, Laurence's cadets or Arya,-who he couldn't see,- to climb down.  
_Oh hellfire, Vanir had better not be anywhere near here._ Thought Eragon, having a vision of Rankin falling with Vanir's arrow in the back, or his blade sprouting from his chest.  
More likely he'd just drop dead, slain by one of the twelve death-spells.  
'When you are not feeding, you are to be here and waiting, do you understand me? And you there, who said you could ride him?' Continued Rankin, in such a condescending tone Eragon was tempted to shoot him himself, and save Vanir the trouble.  
His face paled as Arya dropped from Levitas' back, her face an emotionless mask. Eragon knew she was furious though.  
'Levitas was kind enough bear them to oblige me, Captain Rankin.' Laurence said, speaking sharply and stepping from Temeraire's claw to draw the man's attention. 'We have only been down at the lake, and a signal would've fetched us in a moment.'  
'I do not care to be running aft-' Rankin bellowed in surprise as an arrow whistled across his chest, scoring a thin scratch, and tearing his coat beyond the redemption of everything but magic.  
'So, you're the one who's ignorant of the honour you've been granted.' Said Vanir venomously, stepping from behind the head of the sleeping Mortarius.  
His bow was in his hand, and he already had another arrow nocked.  
'I do not care whether the rules you are bound to forbid you from a duel, you will answer me this, or you will die by my arrow: Why do you treat your dragon as a beast of lesser value than a horse?'  
Everyone was deathly still.

Eragon knew he was going to have to put Vanir's head through a wall to appease Rankin, and he rather felt that for once he'd be willing to oblige.  
Rankin licked his lips, then decided to try and bluster his way out.  
'And what right do you have to enquire? You shoot at me from the shadows, accuse me-'  
'-Of charges, that if you deny prove you to be a liar.' Interrupted Arya from behind Rankin. 'Vanir, I'm going to _kill _you myself later for this, _then_ let Eragon deal with you as he sees fit, but for now Captain Rankin, I'd like to know the answer to my kinsman's question as well.' She added flatly.  
Unnoticed by all but Eragon, Vanir flushed pink as he realised he was in for hell later on.

Robbed of a way out that was doomed to failure to begin with, Rankin decided for his usual spiel:  
'I find discipline answers better than coddling, and Levitas must always be ready for a long and dangerous flight; it is good for him to be used to going without.'  
'Oh really, and yet you yourself appear to be used to a great deal of comfortable living, I'm inclined to think you're a hypocrite of the highest order,' said Vanir in a tone that suggested he didn't buy what Rankin was saying for a second.  
'By your dragon rider's telling-'  
'Don't try and hide behind me Rankin, if Saphira's existence had've been discovered my family and I would've been put to death unless I joined Galbatorix; and besides, I did what I could for her until she was large enough to fend for herself.' Said Eragon, stepping from Saphira's shadow.

Galzra appraised Rankin as well.  
'If you disdain us so much why not quit the Corps and let Levitas take another captain?' Asked Galzra.  
'And who asked-'  
Vanir bringing his bow up slowly, and deliberately to full-draw silenced Rankin.  
'Because Levitas would take no other than me.' Amended Rankin confidently.  
Galzra turned to Levitas.  
'If you had to take another captain, who would you take?' Asked Galzra curiously.  
'You're not going to touch my Captain.' Said Levitas fiercely.  
Galzra snorted, releasing a puff of smoke in amusement.  
'After I just washed? and spent so much time cleaning my talons? Not on his account.' Galzra said disdainfully.  
Thus reassured, Levitas paused and thought for a moment, then turned to Arya, hesitated, then turned again, this time to Rankin.  
'If I had to take another Captain, I'd take Eragon's gunner, Mr. Kincaid.' Said Levitas making clear by his tone he meant it only in the hypothetical.  
Rankin looked startled at this intelligence, and Eragon made a mental note to slip Gideon a dagger next time he saw him.  
'Slytha.' Said Eragon, and Vanir fell unconscious, releasing the arrow, which sped straight for Rankin.  
Eragon waited until the last possible moment, then said with obvious reluctance:  
'Kodthr.' The arrow stopped dead, a hair's breadth from Rankin's chest.  
Rankin stared mutely at Eragon.  
'And you can repay me by keeping your egotistic, arrogant comments about your inherent superiority to yourself.' Said Eragon pointedly. 'Gregs,' he said to his freshly minted First Lieutenant who'd just exited the officer's club, 'get someone to give you a hand, then take Vanir down to the storage sheds, Celeritas can do what he likes with him after Arya and I are done with him, Rankin, if you want to make objections about Vanir, you're welcome to accompany us and make your complaints to Queen Islanzadì.'  
So saying, Saphira, Arya and he went down towards the storage sheds, with Gregs and one of his new midwingmen, a lanky black haired boy called Ford Morris carrying the unconscious Vanir.  
Rankin hesitated, then, acutely aware that Eragon had just saved his life and given him an opportunity to complain about Vanir's actions to the one who'd sent him in the first place, followed them.

When he was gone, Levitas gazed at Saphira.  
'What did my Captain mean by 'by your rider's telling?' He asked.  
Saphira gazed at Levitas with mingled interest and amusement.  
_For the first few months of my life Eragon left me to fend for myself for the most part, believing me to be only an animal, although he did teach me a great deal, and brought me what food he could steal from his family's cellar, along with building me a shelter; and when we were forced to flee Palancar Valley I still fended for myself for the most part. But, he had no choice, whilst your captain just prefers to sweep you aside as insignificant and consult his own ease._ Explained Saphira, purposely using telepathy so Levitas was forced to see the truth of what she said.  
Levitas was silent for a long while.  
The other dragons had wandered off with the exception of Galzra, who'd curled up and gone to sleep.  
'I lied before, if I had to take another captain, I'd take Lady Arya, Gideon is very kind, and so is Hollin, but Lady Arya has always made time for me, and treats me as an equal.' He said eventually.  
Saphira nodded.  
_I thought so, she'll understand why you did it._ Replied Saphira.

* * *

'Vanir, do you have any idea how much you were risking when you attacked Rankin like that?' Demanded Arya. 'Not to mention how much trouble this will cause if Rankin decides to take this to the admiralty?' She was furious, every line taut with anger. 'And don't use his neglect of Levitas as an excuse, as despicable as it is, it is not worth sacrificing the future of the riders for, or an opportunity to even the odds against Galbatorix.'  
Vanir swallowed, but remained silent.  
'If we could get away with it, he'd quietly die during the night, but we can't get away with it, so we just have to tolerate his presence, even if we object to his methods.' Added Eragon.  
Rankin was waiting outside for when they were finished with Vanir.  
'Even so, after this I have my doubts about whether you are the most suitable candidate for the egg.' Continued Eragon when Vanir remained silent.  
Vanir blanched, and went to protest, but Arya silenced him with a look.  
'When the Queen hears of this, she'll more than likely take Eragon's view of this incident; and this is the most lenient penalty that we can think of that will appease Rankin _and_ keep you from getting hung into the bargain.' She said.  
Vanir shut his mouth and slumped his shoulders, realising just how much his patriotism, recklessness and pride were going to cost him.

With this initial scolding out of the way, Eragon opened the door to the shed and beckoned Rankin inside.  
'I won't offer apology for Vanir's actions because I share his sentiment, however I do believe he went too far by trying to kill you; Arya and I have decided that his punishment will be to be denied a chance at the dragon egg in our possession, which he was sent by the Queen as a candidate for in the first place.' Explained Eragon. 'I hope you find our decision satisfactory.' He added.  
'Is that it? Is that all you are willing to lay down as punishment for attempted murder?' Demanded Rankin.  
'That, on top of whatever the Queen and Celeritas deem as fitting punishment.' Replied Eragon, then nodded to Arya.  
She invoked the spell of communication scrying, and moments later they were holding a private audience with Islanzadì.  
Eragon introduced Rankin, briefly outlined what Vanir had attempted, which earned Vanir a look that would most likely have killed him if Islanzadì had actually been present, but then Eragon had to explain Vanir's reason, and when Islanzadì learned, she stood and even though it was only her _facsimile_ on a mirror, Rankin quailed and went down on one knee.  
'I am sure I speak for Eragon and Arya as well as Vanir when I say that if you were to come to Alagaësia, you would be killed inside of a minute for your treatment of this dragon under your charge, I will abide by whatever judgement Eragon has made and add my own to it: Vanir, you will serve as Eragon's servant and bodyguard until the end of this affair.'  
Vanir bowed, his face expressionless.  
'As you wish your majesty.' He said.  
Islanzadì turned back to Rankin.  
'Be thankful that we have everything to gain by this alliance, or I would make it my business to kill you myself.' She said, glaring imperiously at Rankin.  
As it was a monarch making the threat, Rankin just mutely stared at the floor.  
'If you wish to avoid that, I suggest you rethink your opinions, or your line of work,' She added coldly, then with a final nod to Eragon and Arya, terminated the spell.  
Rankin stood, then looked at the three faces looking at him with various blank expressions.  
'Now that that is settled, we'll hear Celeritas' opinion, then let the matter drop.' Said Eragon in a tone of steel.

* * *

'Frankly, I don't think much of your Queen's judgement for sending such a brash and reckless candidate for this egg in your keeping, and insofar as punishment goes master Vanir, I think you're getting off lightly, for my own part I can't have you flogged, hung or anything of the sort as you aren't technically under my purview, however I _can_ have you digging cesspits for the length of your stay here.' Was Celeritas' reaction when he'd heard the whole.  
With this he looked pointedly at Rankin, who left the comfortable cavern and went to the officer's club.  
'It is often said most of the Corps wants Rankin dead, but you're the first one to actually attempt to kill him.' Said Celeritas shaking his head.  
'What will be done though? Surely if dragons are so valued you won't leave Levitas in that man's hands.' Demanded Vanir.  
'Boy, you attempt murder in front of at least fifty witnesses, get demoted to a servant by your monarch, get barred from the chance at a dragon, set to digging cesspits for however long you're here, then have the temerity to ask for your victim to be punished simply for employing outdated methods, with a level of insolence I have never before encountered,' Said Celeritas sharply. 'Nothing _can_ be done; Admiral Peterson has before now petitioned to have Rankin thrown out of the Corps for brutality. Captain Dyer has stolen a dragon from under his nose and broken it into the bargain. Lieutenant Gregs has been brow beating Rankin for the past month using the uncertainty of Arya's self-restraint to try and get him to clean up his act. _I _rebelled against his treatment when he was saddled with me after his father cut straps and retired. The man is entirely impervious to all disapproval, and your attempt at murder will probably go on that list of failed attempts, now go and find yourself a shovel and get the groundsmen to show you where the current cesspit is; you're to fill it in, then start digging a fresh one.' Snapped Celeritas, putting his head directly in front of Vanir's face.  
Vanir scurried off so fast he might've just vanished into thin air.

'And now I'll have to listen to Rankin moaning about you talking with Levitas for the next three hours, and have to put a stop to Laurence's interference, favourable and selfless as it is.' Said Celeritas in a tone that spoke of despair and distaste.  
'I'll take my leave of you then, I'm sure that the admiralty will want to hear of this and what has been decided.' Said Eragon, inclining his head.  
'I've got a host of other worries at the moment, and I just might 'forget' too.' Mused Celeritas with a sly wink.  
Eragon bowed again then left.

Vanir was waiting for him as he exited the cavern.  
'So that's it? You won't allow me anywhere near the egg?' Asked Vanir.  
Eragon paused.  
'I never said that, but you'll certainly have to earn the privilege now, and you'll be doing so alongside the rest of Saphira's crew, and of them I'm reasonably sure of perhaps three I can see in the role. As for getting a shot at one of the British dragons, you'd best hope Celeritas 'forgets' to report this incident.' He replied, then continued on his way.

**Do I enjoy taking shots at Rankin?  
****Yes, yes I do.  
****He is the most hateful character you could come across, mainly because he isn't a 'bad guy' per se, and thus is protected (for the most part) from getting quietly pushed off a cliff, or getting stabbed by a protagonist.  
****So, putting him through most everything short of killing him will have to do.**

**So, thanks this time around:**

**For Reviewing: Hideout Writer, T2238, dragonshina, ZombieChick422 and T2238.**

**For Author Alerting: jssaunders.**


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter XXVII

A Rider Revealed

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

The next day, Eragon came out to the courtyard to see Gideon standing a little way off staring blankly around the courtyard while Rankin berated him for talking with Levitas.  
Rankin was so caught up in his rant he didn't even notice that Gideon was summarily ignoring him, even effecting a look of tired boredom and disdain.  
When Rankin paused for breath, Eragon saw Gideon leap on the opportunity.  
'You finished yet? Good. I've got rifles to check, cartridges to make and other stuff to attend to, good day, and see you some other time Levitas.' Said Gideon, with a nod to the little Winchester, who was looking rather miserable and disgruntled.  
Gideon strode off in the direction of the harness sheds, leaving Rankin staring after him, scandalised.  
He turned to start on Levitas, and noticed Eragon watching with interest, and came over to him instead.  
'As your gunner refuses to listen to me sir, you will oblige me by telling him to keep away from Levitas.' Said Rankin to Eragon. 'As you have already reminded me, it is the height of rudeness to interfere with another's dragon, and I do not like having to keep on to a ground crewman to mind his work and leave alone a dragon he isn't assigned to.' He added.  
Eragon sighed internally and suppressed his distaste.  
'I will speak to him, although if you were to provide some basic care for Levitas they'd stop of their own accord you know.' He said.  
'I have already given you my philosophy and I have seen the result of yours. I have been a courier since I was twelve, and Levitas has never given me any trouble. You on the other hand, have yielded to Saphira so often she treats you more like a pet than a-'  
Eragon turned and walked away from Rankin, heading over to Saphira, waking her with a mental prod.  
She blinked and raised her head.  
_Good morning little one._ She said, before standing, and yawning wide.  
She spotted Rankin, then saw the conversation Eragon had just had with the man in Eragon's mind.  
'I treat Eragon like a pet do I?' Asked Saphira dangerously, then pounced on Rankin and pinned him with her talons.  
_I don't treat him like a slave though, like you treat Levitas._ She said, turning one sapphire eye on Rankin, who looked away.  
Saphira snorted in contempt, and released Rankin, letting him scurry away towards the officer's club.  
Levitas had stepped forward when Saphira had pinned Rankin, but stopped, realising just _who _had been pinning his captain.  
'Looks like I'll have to have a word with Gideon.' Said Eragon rubbing his brow.

* * *

Eragon looked over his new crew with an impassive gaze.  
He'd taken Gregs as his First Lieutenant, and a short, black haired youth by the name of Jacob Teel as his Second. Teel was taciturn, a proficient sword fighter and an excellent rifleman.  
His riflemen ranged from fourteen years old for the youngest to twenty-one for the oldest.  
The bellmen were a little more diverse, ranging from fourteen to twenty-five.  
Then there were his ground crew of Gideon, Theresa, Murray, Shields and Giles, along with Vanir who was more of a general member of the crew, giving aid wherever Eragon deemed it needed.  
He'd puzzled over runners until Gregs had put forward recommendations, meaning he now had four cadets under his charge to boot.  
All in all, they'd done their level best to get on his crew, and had stepped to Eragon's intensive combat drills with a will after the action of the previous week.  
'Your efforts while on Saphira during the initial training have got you this far, and you should be proud of yourselves,' said Eragon to them all.  
Gregs lips twitched in the ghost of a smile. He knew what Eragon was about to say next.

'As Murray and the rest of the ground crew will tell you, I expect you to keep up the effort of doing your level best while on Saphira's crew.' Continued Eragon, and the surreptitious elbowing, satisfied grins and looks of gloating froze.  
'The odds are good that when this is all over, Saphira and I will be returning to Alagaësia to help clean up the aftermath of war, and begin rebuilding the riders, this means that our being here will be temporary and when we're gone you'll have to make your way with other crews.' Said Eragon into the silence.  
The only two of the new crewmen who looked comfortable with this arrangement were Teel and Gregs, as well as Vanir, although for entirely different reasons.  
'You're saying you'll be leaving us for better or for worse when the war in your homeland is finished?' Asked Ford in askance.  
Eragon locked eyes with Ford just as Teel located him.  
'The deal with your admiralty is that when both the war here and in my homeland are done, I shall return to my homeland, however that doesn't mean I won't try and see that you either end up as captains in your own right or otherwise promoted,' replied Eragon. 'And there's also the matter of the egg I've been instructed to guard; Vanir there was meant to be given a chance at it, but after that little incident yesterday he's going to have to work to earn the privilege, just like the rest of you.'  
This took a moment to sink in, and when it did, jaws universally dropped.  
'You mean-' Said Michael Dirk incredulously, he was a tall, thin youth, with coarse-cropped blonde hair, hazel eyes and a thoughtful expression, and one of Saphira's topmen.  
'Yes, if you can prove yourself in mine and Arya's eyes I will grant you a chance at the egg, and I'll try and see to it that you get a chance at hatchlings yourselves if I can before this is all over.' Confirmed Eragon. 'Now, Celeritas wants us flying with Lily's formation today, along with Thorn as flank-riders, so step to it.' said Eragon, as Saphira stood from where she'd been lounging, to allow the flight crew to scramble aboard to take their positions, with Eragon going up last, simply leaping up to the extra-large gap in the spikes along her back.

* * *

Captain Jack Dyer liked to think of himself as tough enough to stroll around with a sword through the thigh like nothing was wrong,-In truth, he'd once fought thus during a skirmish with a freebooter dragon-crew in the Caribbean.  
However, as he looked over the ten-man flight crew, he couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness.  
Ten years.  
They'd been assigned to his crew all raw lieutenants, midwingmen, cadets and ensigns ten years previously before they'd been shipped out to the Americas.  
They'd been to hell and back in terms of the missions they'd had to do, and now that they were back in England, and the reports of their actions had been scrutinised by the admiralty, they'd all been offered dragons of their own.

They'd flown down to the lake shore for some privacy, and now Jack and Jinx looked at the crew with a mixed look of pride, sadness and happiness.  
'Well boys, you should be proud of yourselves, the admiralty was so impressed with what you did over in the Americas that you've all been offered dragons of your own.' Said Jack, gazing over them all with an approving look.  
His men stayed stock still; true, their captain was inventive with punishments for trying to talk up girls in town, and didn't take kindly to slacking off, but he was honest, stuck up for his men and was well liked, they felt just the same as their captain did.  
'However, I've requested,-and the admiralty has agreed,-that half of you will be staying on to help train up the batch of rookies Jinx and I will be taking to Alagaësia, when that's done you'll get your step and the other lot of rookies will take those places.' Said Jack.  
'And we decided that it's only fair that we do this on a volunteer basis, so, who's coming?' Asked Jinx.  
Immediately debate broke out among the men, and a few minutes later, the men who were considered the best candidates had stepped forward.  
Jack nodded approvingly. They were the men he would've picked.  
'Also, Jack and I decided to get you all something to remember us by:' said Jinx, and Jack quickly hauled out a box he'd put in Jinx's belly rigging.  
The men crowded around as Jack pried it open.  
Then they all looked up at Jack sharply.  
Inside the box were twenty revolver pistols, and ten bandanas.  
Jack grinned crookedly.  
'You all always used to go on about wanting a moniker of your own when you made Captain, so Jinx and I figured you'd like a bandanna each, and a couple of Colt's pistols.' He said.  
The crew just gave each other long-suffering but pleased looks.  
Jack had an odd sense of humour at times, but there was no denying he was generous.

* * *

Lily's formation ordinarily flew in a wedge-shaped block, with Lily herself in the lead, the two Yellow Reapers, Messoria and Immortalis in the mid-wing positions and the wing-tips anchored by Dulcia, and Nitidus.  
Temeraire and Maximus now joined the formation, forming a back row and closing the V-shaped formation into an arrowhead.  
Saphira, Thorn and Galzra had also been drafted for the formation, Galzra flying ahead as a scout, whilst Thorn and Saphira flew off to the sides of the formation.  
When Rosarias' formation finally joined the Varden, Gringlok and Ornthrond would act as outriders like Galzra.

Now that it had finally been settled on what was to be done with the Alagaësians, Saphira and Thorn no longer held themselves apart, and were admitted to the company of the other dragons.  
Galzra, full of youthful energy and having spent most of her short life around other dragons, hadn't been shy to begin with and had been spending what times Noelfavrel was occupied and Saphira wasn't teaching her, talking with various other dragons in the covert, and couriers doing their rounds.  
Eragon and Murtagh had similarly held themselves almost as islands during the initial training, and now found themselves in company with the other captains, as well as Laurence.  
The captains and first lieutenants often held discussions of tactics after training sessions, and despite Gregs' excellent explanations, Eragon often found himself lost, and one time when the question turned to attacking a particular arrangement of infantry, artillery and cavalry, Eragon ended up red faced when he opined that it was a weak formation, and that the most effective counter would be to land and engage the formation at close-quarters.

This was met by incredulity, and Eragon was reminded of the black powder weapons and lack of magical ability among the aviators, as well as the preference of ranged warfare over close-quarter combat.  
When the discussion turned to the general state of the war, Eragon found himself even more lost.  
Laurence and the other Captains, along with Gregs had tried to explain the politics, and various battles to him, but it still seemed a near hopeless quagmire to Eragon.

* * *

A week after training resumed, a parcel arrived addressed to Temeraire, along with a letter addressed to _'Eragon, Murtagh, Saphira, Thorn and Co.'  
_'It came along with the parcel, which is waiting over with Temeraire, would you like me to bring it to you?' Asked Laurence when he informed Eragon of it's arrival.  
Eragon quickly called Murtagh and Thorn over, along with Saphira.  
'There's only one person in this world who'd bother writing to us, and I rather think I'll keep the subject I suspect the letter is about a secret for now, no need to raise hopes.' Said Eragon, and the five of them proceeded over to where Temeraire was waiting.  
Thankfully, Galzra was talking with Levitas, and Keynes was attempting to teach Noelfavrel French.

Eragon was rather dismayed to find Solembum waiting for them though.  
'I take it that this is probably going to be of terribly great importance if you've deigned to show up simply for a parcel and a letter.' Said Eragon to the werecat.  
Solembum,-who was in his human form,-winked lazily.  
'It's not the parcel or the note that piqued my interest Shadeslayer, it's the content of the contents of the parcel.' Said Solembum cryptically.  
'What do you mean by that?' Asked Temeraire.  
Solembum shivered, and turned into his cat form before curling up on Temeraire's forearm, but didn't answer.

'Werecats are inscrutable creatures Temeraire, they're often on the edges of the old stories, have extended life spans, are creatures of magic and often know more than they tell.' Said Eragon, scratching his chin. 'Doubtless Solembum knows a bit more than he's telling us, but the fact he's taking an interest means that whatever it is, its important.' Eragon Explained.  
Without further ado they opened the parcel to find a very well-appointed book that upon examination detailed legends regarding Oriental dragons.  
Eragon felt that this more or less confirmed his suspicion, but he opened the accompanying letter anyway and read the message sent to him by Sir Edward.

_To Mr Eragon Bromsson_

_The book I have sent to Captain Laurence holds a translation of the legend I mentioned to you in Porto Muniz._

_The explanation regarding it's origin is based on the fact that magic doesn't exist,-or isn't used,-here and although it may be of interest to you, I have enclosed some spare facts that came with the translation that I thought may have more to do with magic than anything else, they are as follows:_

_The legend states that not one, but TWO dragons appeared in midair over the Mongolian and Chinese clashing frontlines, with one being hurled by a concussive blast of air behind the Chinese lines, and the other being hurled into the mass of the Mongolian army._

_One of these dragons was maroon, and appeared to lack any form of intelligence, the other was a grievously wounded dragon so deep a shade of blue to be almost black._

_Each dragon had a single rider, bearing a sword that was purportedly the same hue as the scales of his mount._

_The rider that came down behind the Chinese lines managed to rally the faltering Chinese, and lead them in a counter-charge, his injured dragon lending what help it could to the aerial legions of the Chinese._

_At the height of the Chinese resurgence, the rider who lead the Chinese found himself facing Ghengis Khan himself, along with the rider of the dragon which had fallen onto the Khan's battlelines._

_The rider championed himself as the Khan's representative and met his opposite in single combat, the description of the duel also noted supernatural occurrences like blasts of wind, floating rocks and unnaturally coloured fire, which after your friend Murtagh's example I'm inclined to put down to magic._

_The rider of the dark blue dragon emerged victorious, killing the maroon dragon into the bargain, before claiming,-if the translation is to be believed,- a dragon's egg and the souls of several other dragons slain by the maroon rider._

_Beyond this the legend states that the emperor of the time thanked the rider for his assistance, and offered him a home anywhere in the empire._

_The legend goes on to state that the rider accepted the offer and built a fortress in the Wu Gorge, and is held to have lived there ever since._

_The fortress apparently does exist, and indeed the region has a surreal reputation, but I will defer to your judgement whether this tale is true history or mere fancy._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Sir Edward Howe._

Eragon wordlessly showed the note to Murtagh.  
Saphira and Thorn saw the letter through the minds of their riders and also came to the same conclusion.  
'As soon as circumstances allow, we're going to China.' Said Eragon.  
'You mean _you_ will, if this rider killed one of the Forsworn, he's not liable to greet me with anything other than a sword point or death-spell.' Replied Murtagh.  
'Does this have something to do with the legend regarding the other member of your dragon's breed?' Asked Laurence, interested despite himself.  
Eragon nodded a confirmation.  
'It appears that a loyalist rider and one of the Forsworn were thrown here,-possibly by dragon magic,-during a skirmish and that the loyalist managed to rally the Chinese against the Mongols and drive them back, killing the Forsworn and his bestial dragon into the bargain, then reclaimed an unhatched egg from them. If the legend is accurate they built a fortress in the Wu Gorge and have been living there ever since, if they haven't died by blade or poison.' He explained.  
Laurence nodded.  
'Would you like to hear one of these stories?' Enquired Laurence.  
Eragon shook his head.  
'No, I'll leave that to you and Temeraire, I'm going to have to convey this to Arya, and probably to Lady Nasuada as well.' He said.

* * *

'I think I know who the loyalist is as well,' said Murtagh unexpectedly three days later, after a practice session.  
'Who?' Asked Thorn.  
As Shruikan hadn't been exactly coherent, all of Thorn's knowledge of the Fall was from Murtagh, and he listened with great interest when Saphira recounted tales she'd heard from Glaedr.  
'Galbatorix often mentioned that only one rider had ever eluded the Forsworn and himself after Vrael's death when they'd found him: Irnstad Shadeslayer, and apparently that was due to dragon magic. From what Galbatorix said, Irnstad and one of the Forsworn, Morr simply vanished, and a shockwave sent them tumbling as well; he assumed that all four of them had been killed, but obviously that isn't what happened.' Recounted Murtagh.  
'Irnstad Shadeslayer?' Repeated Eragon in disbelief. 'The Bane of Aloysis?'  
'The one and only.' Confirmed Murtagh with a nod.

**I'll leave this here, because I can't get the flow to keep going for this chapter.**

**So, thanks for this time around:**

**For Story Alerting: **

**For Reviewing: dragonshina, Twitchel, Hideout Writer, ZombieChick422 and T2238.**

**I'm pretty sure that's the most reviews I've had on a single chapter…ever.**

**Kudos.**

**Well, 'til next time:**

**No One-liners.**


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter IIXXX

'Captain Blood' vs. 'The Antique'

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

A few days after Murtagh voiced his theory on the mysterious rider, a newcomer arrived.  
A French captain, along with his dragon.  
Eragon became aware of the fact when, from the ledge overlooking the feeding grounds, he noted a dragon he hadn't seen before, of a species he'd never seen before but had heard described by Angela.  
A Chanson-de-Guerre if he wasn't mistaken, a French breed.

A moment later he was met by Laurence, they exchanged greetings but as Laurence didn't comment on the newcomer Eragon kept his peace.  
As Lily, Maximus, Victoriatus, Thorn, Saphira and Rosarias were called onto the grounds, another name was added to the list, and the Chanson-de-Guerre Eragon had noted flew out as well.  
Much to Eragon's and Laurence's surprise, Temeraire made a low rumbling noise, not quite a growl, from deep in his throat, very much like a croaking bullfrog,-if one of some twelve tonnes might be imagined,- and he leapt down after them uninvited.  
_About time he found his feet._ Saphira commented to Eragon, even though she was looking the other way as she gorged on her first kill.  
The herdsmen milled about in confusion, but a sharp signal from Eragon and they released four more cows into the grounds so that all eight dragons could eat their fill.  
'Thank you Mr. Bromsson.' Said Laurence with a nod, it hadn't been so much interference as reassuring the herdmasters.  
'He is of splendid conformity, is he yours?' Eragon glanced around at the French accent, even though the question was directed at Laurence.  
The stranger was dressed in thick woollen trousers, and a plain civilian's coat, both marked with dragon-scale impressions: he was certainly an aviator, and an officer besides, his carriage and voice gentlemanlike, but he spoke with a definite French accent.  
This was confusing enough for Laurence, but Eragon was immediately suspicious, and not just over the accent:  
The man's thoughts were shielded quite comprehensively, the first person Eragon had met in this world able to defend his mind.  
Sutton was with him, along with Jack.  
'Who're you?' Asked Eragon suspiciously, his hand resting on Brisingr's hilt.  
'No need for hostilities Eragon, this is Jean-Paul Choiseul, he's loyal to the bourbon kings, who were ousted during the French Revolution.' Said Sutton quickly.  
Eragon's expression remained fixed.  
'Might you explain to me then, Jean-Paul how it is you come to know how to block telepathy? You're the first person I have met outside my homeland with the ability.' Asked Eragon coolly.  
'Telepathy?' Asked Choiseul, raising his eyebrows and chuckling quietly, 'my boy I think you might've been reading too many works of phantasy, or too many of the old Viking sagas, there is no such thing.'  
Eragon arched an eyebrow.  
'If that were the case, then how did the bards and the Vikings come to write of it, now, how is it,'-Eragon and Saphira joined minds then assaulted Choiseul's defences,- _you can defend against telepathy?_ They asked in unison.  
Choiseul flinched visibly.  
'There are men; men who came through Austria, they had strange powers, powers of the devil, the priests said that the best defence against them was to recite the Lord's Prayer to keep them from corrupting us,' said Choiseul unnerved.  
Eragon felt a chill.  
'Did these men carry an insignia of a twisting flame or a black hand, as a tattoo, or on an item of clothing?' Asked Eragon.  
Choiseul shook his head.  
'I heard rumours, they chilled me to my bones, and I took the advice of the priest I asked, I couldn't rightly tell you, and how is it you possess powers even resembling those Black Arts?' Demanded Choiseul.  
'A side-effect of being the rider of my dragon, and that is worrying news you bring, worrying indeed.' Replied Eragon dismissively to Choiseul's demand, but with real worry in his reaction to the news.  
'The work of that Black King of yours?' Asked Jack, leaning against a rock near the edge of the cliff.  
'I wouldn't doubt it, he must've sent some of his pet magicians to spy there, and by the sounds of it they've been sowing terror among the populace into the bargain, I'd wager that was Napoleon's price for sending dragon support to Galbatorix: the loan of a cabal of his magicians.' Mused Eragon.  
'Well, arcane reality and pious fidelity aside, I'd like very much to know this news you said you had for us,' said Jack, 'seeing as Sutton don't care to enlighten me _monsieur,_' said Jack with the trace of a grin.

'Your accent in French would be atrocious, sir,' replied Choiseul, 'I have come from Austria only last night, with Praecursoris,' he continued before Jack could pass comment, gesturing out to the Chanson-de-Guerre, who was daintily taking another sheep, neatly avoiding the blood spurting from Maximus' third victim.  
'Austria is mobilising; she is coming into the war with Bonaparte again, and I dare say he will have to turn his attention to the Rhine instead of the Channel soon enough.' Choiseul said, 'I hope I do not discourage your hopes in any way; I would be desolate to give you unnecessary concern. But I cannot say I have great confidence in their chances. I do not wish to sound ungrateful; the Austrian corps was generous enough to grant myself and Praecursoris asylum during the Revolution, and I am most deeply in their debt. But the archdukes are fools, and they will not listen to the few generals of competence they have. Archduke Ferdinand to fight the genius of Marengo and Egypt! It is an absurdity.'  
Jack scowled at the French royalist. 'My accent isn't that bad.' He said offended.

The conversation turned to a battle Eragon had no knowledge of, so after telling Saphira to meet him in the courtyard, Eragon headed for the officers club for a drink.  
_Don't go getting into mortal combat again._ Teased Saphira.  
Eragon mentally rolled his eyes, but he quirked a smile anyway.

* * *

Galzra yawned wide.  
It was around midday, there wasn't to be another training session for another two hours and she didn't really feel like sleeping.  
She located Noelfavrel with a flicker of thought, practicing writing the Kvaedhì Liduen under Arya's gaze.  
_I'd find something else to do Galzra, I'm going to be here a while._ Said Noelfavrel distractedly.  
Galzra sighed, and casting an eye around the courtyard, saw Levitas off on his own.  
Thus assured of a decent conversation, she sidled over, noticing with some small satisfaction that she was nearly three times as large as him, even though she was roughly twenty years younger.  
'Hello.' Said Galzra brightly, settling herself next to Levitas.  
The older dragon glanced at her incuriously.  
'Galzra, please don't take this personally, but my captain doesn't want me talking with you anymore.' He said miserably.  
Galzra nudged Levitas with her elbow.  
'He can 'want' what he likes, it's not going to stop me, he can't tell me what to do without _my_ captain, or Eragon telling him to go jump in the lake,' replied Galzra dismissively, 'and there's no reason for him to forbid you, so why cut yourself off?' She asked.  
Levitas went to reply, but a sharp and all-to-familiar voice cut across him.  
'Here, I thought I told you, you weren't to talk with her,' said Rankin as he walked up.  
Evidently going out somewhere by his evening dress.

Galzra stood and gazed down imperiously at Rankin in a pose she'd unconsciously picked up from Saphira.  
'He wasn't the one doing the talking. I was, you got a problem with that?' Asked Galzra coolly.  
'Yes, I do.' Said Rankin shortly, 'you're attempting to teach him seditious thinking and lure him away to the service of that slattern ambassador, or seduce him yourself.'  
Galzra's eyes flashed dangerously.  
'First of all, Lady Arya isn't a slattern, and I note that you're only saying that because she's nowhere in sight at the minute. Secondly, I'm only two months old,-a little too young to take a mate don't you think? And thirdly, while you might have Levitas under your thumb, my captain, along with practically everyone else I know wouldn't really care if I say, dropped you in the lake from a hundred feet up; asides from Levitas of course.' Said Galzra with a clear note of warning.  
Rankin pulled a flintlock from behind his back, but before he could do anymore, it was shot out of his grasp.

The sound of wings interrupted the stand-off, and moments later Jinx landed with Jack sitting on his shoulder with one of his pistols smoking in his hand.  
He didn't look impressed.  
'Jeremy Rankin.' He said, sliding down Jinx's foreleg. 'I haven't seen you in ten years,' he continued conversationally, coming up and holstering his pistol as he did. 'And looks like time hasn't done shit to change you.' This last note was accusatory.  
'Captain Dyer, it has been too long,' agreed Rankin evenly.  
'Long time no see Lev'.' Said Jinx cheerily to the Winchester, 'and you're still keeping company with The Antique, I genuinely don't know how you do it.' He added, nodding to Rankin.  
For his part, Rankin ignored Jinx's remark.

* * *

Meanwhile, down in the store shed, Noelfavrel had stopped copying the glyphs of the ancient language and was eavesdropping via Galzra, along with Arya.

* * *

Jinx turned his attention to Rankin.  
'Now, you mind explaining exactly _why _you were holding a pistol on Galzra here?' Asked Jinx.  
'Captain Dyer, you will keep your dragon under-'  
'I won't do nothin' you tell me to,' replied Dyer shortly. 'In fact, I rather thought I might just clip your wings a bit and give you yet _another_ lesson in humility. I was just going to say hello, but then you pulled the gun; so what were you going to do? Nothing useful like emptyin' your braincase I'm sure.' He asked.  
'If you're implying I would've shot another captain's beast-,' began Rankin.  
'I am.' Replied Jack crossing his scarred arms.  
'Damn you to hell Jack Dyer, despite what you think of me, I do have morals.'  
'Yeah?' Asked Jack, 'any of them involve on treatin' dragons like the sentient beings they are?'  
Rankin remained silent.  
'Thought not. Now, I'm pretty sure Galzra's already told her captain what you did, so to save you getting stabbed in your bed, I suggest you put 'em up,' said Jack, bringing his fists up to cover his face.  
'What? Have you taken leave of your senses!' Asked Rankin incredulously.  
'No, I haven't; we're barred from a sword or pistol duel, so a fistfight is the only other avenue.' Explained Jack reasonably. 'Unless you'd rather Noelfavrel stabbed you in broad daylight, he's mighty handy with that sword of his you know.'  
This grim thought appeared to get through to Rankin; after his brush with Vanir, he now knew that not all the Alagaësians were keen on putting an alliance before the good of the few, and that in their hearts they all really couldn't care less if he ended up dead, and not all of them had near infinite self-restraint.  
Showing deep reluctance, Rankin balled his own fists and took up a fighting stance that betrayed how very unused to fighting he was.  
Jack's on the other hand, was the stance of a man who was skilled in a fight: lowered weight, tight guard, and a great deal of balance.  
Levitas came to his feet in turn, ready to break Jack and Rankin apart, but Galzra shook her head slightly, and Jinx nudged him in the side, before settling down to watch.

Rankin was the one to throw the first punch:  
A wild swing at Jack's head, which Jack didn't even bother blocking, just ducking under it.  
He responded with a quick strike, right into Rankin's chest, which knocked Rankin back a step.  
Instead of pressing the advantage, Jack backed up, and let Rankin come after him with another wild swing.

This continued for the better part of five minutes until Jinx got fed up with it.  
'Jack, for the love of God, you're like a cat playing with a mouse, just put the poor bastard out of his misery.'  
Jack obliged, blocking Rankin's next swing before countering with a punch twice as fast and many times more powerful as any he'd thrown before it.  
It took Rankin just below the left eye and lifted him a full foot off the ground before he hit the flagstones, out cold.

Levitas chirped in alarm and nudged Rankin with his nose.  
'He'll be right in an hour or two, he might have a splitting headache, but he won't be walking around with a sword in his gut or an axe in his head.' Assured Jinx, 'and I think I'll go and have a swim now.' He added to Jack, before leaping into the air in the direction of the lake.  
Levitas gave Jack a murderous look.  
Jack met it with a shrug.  
'Sometimes you've got to be cruel to be kind; and frankly I reckon he'd prefer a punch in the face to bein' stabbed.' He said, then strode off for the officers club whistling.  
With all this over, Levitas slumped back to the ground, looking of all things: conflicted.  
Galzra came and sat beside him, but before she could speak, Levitas did.  
'Just, please, go and talk to Rosarias or someone else, I just-' he broke off, sighed then shook his head, looking all the more confused.  
Galzra nodded as she stood.  
As she walked away, she paused and looked back.  
'Just so you know, my Captain says he's satisfied with what Jack did,' she said, before continuing on, not expecting a reply.

* * *

Jinx returned from his swim dripping wet and thoroughly pleased to be met by Jack.  
'Have a good time?' Asked Jack dryly.  
'Yeah, you wouldn't have a towel would you?'  
'If you're after a towel, I've got some spares, we won't need all of these for Temeraire,' said a cadet who was going past.  
Jack glanced at the cadet, picking by her bearing she was a girl, but there was something familiar about her…  
'Thank you, miss…' Jack trailed off.  
'Emily Roland sir, on Temeraire,' she said.  
Jack nodded, feeling like he'd just taken a step into empty air.  
'Thank you, carry on.' He said with a wave of dismissal.  
He glanced up to see Jinx looking at him accusingly.

Thankfully, he waited until they were in their quiet corner of the courtyard before speaking.  
'You filthy hypocrite,' he said accusingly.  
'Jinx, for the last. Stuffing. Time, nothing happened between me and Jane before we left for the Americas,' said Jack firmly.  
'I'm not so sure Jack, and if I'm right, then you going off at the crew every time one of them tried to talk up a girl does make you a hypocrite,' replied Jinx pointedly.  
'_If_ what you're implying _had've _happened, it would've been entirely consensual, and would've required no smooth talking from me,' said Jack, eyeing along the edge of his cutlass.  
'And don't think I haven't noticed that you've been trying to convince Dulcia to do the same with you Casanova.' He added.  
This silenced Jinx for a moment.  
'No comment.' He said abruptly.

* * *

Five minutes after Galzra left, Rankin woke up.  
Levitas peered at him anxiously, but didn't say anything.  
Rankin groaned in pain, then began walking unsteadily towards the keep, completely ignoring Levitas.  
Levitas sighed, and shuffled into his corner of the courtyard, and hunched over miserable.  
Deep down he was beginning to realise that Galzra, Saphira, Arya, Vanir, Gideon, and everyone else who said Rankin didn't appreciate him were right.  
But he couldn't bring himself to admit it to himself, and it made him feel confused puzzling it over.

* * *

Noelfavrel came and sat beside Galzra wearily.  
He'd never have thought that there was any other way to be exhausted but physically and emotionally.  
His tutelage under Eragon had showed him that there was a third sought: Mental exhaustion.  
Galzra lifted her head and placed it in Noelfavrel's lap.  
'A long day huh?' Asked Noelfavrel, stroking Galzra's neck gently.  
'Yeah, but at least you've got things to occupy your time, now that Levitas doesn't want to talk with me because of Rankin, I don't have anything much to do.' Said Galzra sulkily.  
They sat in silence a while longer, watching as first Saphira returned to the courtyard, to have her harness removed before settling down to sleep, then Thorn, who talked quietly with Murtagh.

**I can't think of how to continue this chapter, so I'll leave this here.**

**Thank yous this time around:**

**For reviewing I'd like to thank: Hideout Writer, Twitchel, T2238 and greenwar.**

**And to greenwar: you're bilingual? Cool, your English really isn't that bad for the record.**

**So, until next time, check out **_**Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides**_**, my name is **_**not**_** Christian Byrne, (My Blood Wolves aren't Chaos Marines.) for those who follow the Games Workshop blog, and most importantly:**

**No One-liner reviews!**


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter IXXX

To Dover

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

'What do you think of that Jean-Paul character who arrived yesterday?' Asked Eragon.  
'The Frenchman? I don't trust him, no other man, woman, child or dragon we've met here has been able to block us, and then he turns up with the ability, and conveniently magicians have infiltrated his last bolt-hole, he's got something to hide.' Said Murtagh, eyeing Choiseul where he was over speaking with Praecursoris, suspiciously.  
They'd just finished a practice session, and much to Eragon's annoyance Praecursoris and Choiseul were being put into Lily's formation along with them.  
Privately he entertained the thought that with so many dragons in the one formation they just might be able to pose a threat to Galbatorix.

* * *

He didn't think anymore of it, until one evening while he and Saphira were flying they encountered Temeraire flying alone above the lake, practicing the manoeuvres Celeritas had drummed into him.  
'And what are you doing out here this fine evening? I would've thought you'd be listening to Laurence read instead of out flying here,' asked Eragon over the wind.  
'Oh, I thought I might just practice flying some more,' replied Temeraire evasively.

Not for the first time in the past few weeks, Eragon noted how very different Temeraire appeared compared to the other dragons at Loch Laggan:  
His colouring was notably more uniform, and he was more evenly proportioned, and he'd developed a frill-like ruff of skin between the flexible horns around the back of his head, along with thin tendrils on his lower jaw.

Saphira growled approvingly.  
'An admirable idea, but if you're going to practice flying for the practice of it, you should do so with your captain and crew, Eragon and myself simply fly for the enjoyment, but it also gives us the excuse to keep the skills my master taught me sharp.' She said.  
Temeraire paused in what he was doing and started hovering.  
'I'm practicing manoeuvres.' He said self-consciously.  
Saphira snorted derisively.  
'Why hobble yourself? you have the ability to become a master of the sky, and you choose to follow the instructions for flying a group of humans devised?' She asked.  
_Saphira, now isn't the time to be sowing the seeds of revolution._ Warned Eragon.  
The damage was already done though.  
'That is a good question Saphira, I'll ask Laurence later tonight,' replied Temeraire, and having said that, went straight back to the manoeuvres.

* * *

'Laurence?' Asked Temeraire, several days later.  
'Yes?' Replied Laurence, looking up from the translation of the oriental dragon legends at Temeraire's question.  
'Saphira said something the other day, and I was thinking, why do we fly formations that men devised, when men cannot fly themselves?' Asked Temeraire.  
Laurence silently cursed Saphira's pride, then wracked his brains for an answer.  
'I'm not entirely sure Saphira is correct in that regard, the aviators who first devised the manoeuvres must surely have devised them with the aid of their dragons, because otherwise they would be ridiculously easy to pick apart, as you said yourself, men cannot fly, and a dragon would be able to pick a weakness in a formation easily,' replied Laurence after a moment.  
'Ah, then, perhaps we might devise some of our own? Saphira also said that I shouldn't hobble myself by just learning what the others do, because my ability is so much greater,' said Temeraire, his ruff pricking up with excitement at the thought.  
'Yes,' said Laurence, putting aside the book, 'that just might be the thing.' He added, more to himself.

He'd spoken to Celeritas about Temeraire's near obsessive practicing of the manoeuvres, and to his chagrin had found that Celeritas had been responsible for it, by adding Praecursoris to Lily's formation.  
Apparently to add enough incentive for Temeraire to overcome any natural boredom with the rote manoeuvres.  
Now, presented with a way to curb this, Laurence planned to grab it with both hands.  
In the meantime, he silently blessed Saphira for her pride in her abilities.

* * *

'You're devising your own manoeuvres?' Asked Eragon, interested a few days later when he asked what Laurence and Temeraire were doing observing a table with a lattice-work over the top.  
'Yes, something Saphira said put the idea in Temeraire's head, and it sounds an excellent one to me so-' Laurence gestured to the table.  
'Here, if you're going to be doing this, then it might be an idea if Saphira and I listen in, if Temeraire can fly these manoeuvres, Saphira can with as much ease,' said Eragon.  
'If you want to be devising manoeuvres with Saphira, you can, but Laurence and I do not need your help.' Said Temeraire shortly, startling Laurence and Temeraire with his vehemence.  
'My dear, Eragon and Saphira have more experience in aerial combat than we do, we could use their advise.' Said Laurence reasonably.  
'Yes, in single combat, but look what happened when we rescued Vindicatus, Saphira and Thorn ended up outmanoeuvred, and if we hadn't intercepted that Pâcheur Rayé-'  
'We-'  
'Would've-'  
'Been-'  
'Fine.' Said Eragon and Saphira together, as the dragoness in question landed in a whirl of folding wings.  
'Your help was appreciated, but it wouldn't have been difficult to get rid of him, all Eragon or one of my crew would've had to do was stab him in the armpit, we do not have armour there, so it would've wounded him enough to make him pull out,' explained Saphira.  
'I am not saying you cannot devise manoeuvres, but this is something Laurence and I are doing without your help.' Replied Temeraire shortly.  
Saphira snorted, exhaling a small puff of smoke.  
'Very well, but you would do well to master yourself; there is no shame in accepting help, and now you have reached maturity your instincts may become something of a hindrance, you have a human partner, but at heart you are wild, remember that,' replied Saphira, and with that took off again.  
Laurence opened his mouth to speak, but Eragon cut across him.  
'No, it's probably better if I go, when Saphira gets like that she can be very convincing, I do not wish to tempt fate,' he said, with only a hint of evasion and followed Saphira.

Laurence turned to Temeraire.  
'My dear, why so defensive all of a sudden? You've never minded Saphira's presence before, and I thought you enjoyed her instruction.' Laurence asked.  
'Yes, but lately Eragon and her have been… well they have been looking at me the same way people have been looking at Captain Blood,' said Temeraire, after he got his thoughts straight.  
'You must recall, that Saphira and Eragon share a telepathic bond, and that the dragons that did not serve in their Aerial corps didn't share such a bond with a man either, and answered to no authority but their own or another dragon; I think they eye you warily because you have recently reached maturity, and as you do not share this telepathic bond with me they are afraid of what might happen if they should offend you,' explained Laurence. 'And displays like that are not likely to convince them they are wrong.' He added, glancing after Eragon, wondering how much the Alagaësian rider's acute hearing would allow him to hear.  
This explanation caused Temeraire to lower his ruff, obviously hurt.  
'Pray, do not give it any thought, just be yourself and they will see for themselves that they're wrong; they only have to look at Messoria or Dulcia, or any of the other dragons at the covert to know that they're mistaken in their belief.' Said Laurence quietly.  
Temeraire brightened fractionally, then they turned their attention back to the table.

* * *

_Eragon.  
_The dragon rider in question jerked out of his waking dream, before stumbling out of bed and banging a knee on the stone floor.  
Scrabbling under the bed, he drew out the sack that contained Glaedr's eldunarí.  
_Master?_ Asked Eragon, somewhat blearily as it was roughly three hours until dawn.  
Glaedr took a look at Eragon's thoughts, then projected his amusement for Eragon's benefit.  
_Sorry to have woken you, but I have been thinking these last two months, and I believe there is a way I can aid you._ Said Glaedr.  
_Couldn't it have waited until morning?_ Asked Eragon, stifling an involuntary yawn.  
Glaedr snorted. _I thought it was morning, but regardless this is important; if needs be I can grant my knowledge to one of the dragons of this world temporarily, all you need do is make sure my eldunarí is in contact with them._ Said Glaedr, but Eragon got the impression there was something Glaedr wasn't saying.  
_Master, I have been taking pains to keep the existence of eldunarí secret from the aviators, they're,-for the most part,- good people but their commanders, the Admiralty, well the majority of them are Navy folk and-  
_Glaedr cut across Eragon, glancing into Eragon's mind.  
_They see dragons as little more than an extension of man's will, much like a ship; Very well, tell one of the aviators you trust completely, but make sure that they, their dragon, and their crew swear secrecy in the ancient language._ Said Glaedr, before he spied something else and took another look into Eragon's thoughts.  
He was silent for a long moment, then his eldunarí pulsed a strangely luminous and unsettling shade of yellow.  
_I apologise for waking you, get some rest._ Glaedr said at last, queerly abrupt and brief.  
_I take it you just found out about Rankin? _Asked Eragon.  
_No, I've known about him for a while; I've been plaguing him with nightmares off and on, I'm talking more of this newcomer Choiseul, and this 'Imperial', Temeraire, coming to maturity, they both, I think are more than they appear._ Replied Glaedr. _Do not worry, and about these manoeuvres, I know of a few that some of the older dragons of our order used,-those who were so old and large that they could carry parties of men without trouble. But for now, rest._ He added.  
Without protest, Eragon returned Glaedr to under his bed, then clambered back into it, before resuming his waking dream.

* * *

The next few weeks passed nearly without incident, aside from Arya returning from London after beginning the long and tedious process of negotiating for the purchase of a group of dragon eggs.  
'And to make matters worse, I think they found out on their own that Vanir tried to kill Rankin, obviously they can't prove it because no one but Rankin wants to complain, but they're making it extremely difficult nonetheless, and to make matters worse, it appears they've cottoned on to how and guard their minds against telepathy; if this keeps up, I'm going to ask Islanzadí to send one of her more artful courtiers, Lord Däthedr perhaps, their views of women are the same as those of most humans, outside of Angela, Nasuada and the aviators, so that might speed things up.' Arya said when Eragon asked how it'd gone.

* * *

Now three months into their training, the formation bound for Alagaësia was becoming a tangible force:  
Noctus had finally gained control over his ability to secrete venom, and it turned out he didn't so much as 'spray' it as spit it in globules.  
Rosarias had grown tremendously, and had reached roughly Lily's size, while Mortarius had begun to slow down growing, becoming larger instead of heavier, while meanwhile Vindexia's growth was still continuing, and she was only ten tonnes as yet, although she was a little over three months old.  
In the air, the formation flew in a shape resembling something of a harpoon:

Rosarias at the head as the formation leader, with Mortarius behind her and to the left, while Noctus flew slightly behind Rosarias, but in front of Mortarius.  
Vindexia, followed in turn by Victoriatus, and Jinx flew on the right of these two, with his crew of repeater-armed topmen.

One memorable afternoon, Celeritas orchestrated a mock battle between the two formations.  
The aftermath saw several minor scratches on both sides, as well as bruises and black-eyes among the crew,-these more common among the crews of Thorn, Saphira and Jinx, along with Lily, Victoriatus and Rosarias, as the perpetrators and victims respectively of several boardings.  
It also became apparent that good sense or not, Murtagh hadn't been listening during the lectures on the fact that captains were to stay guarded during boardings and certainly weren't supposed to _lead_ them, having lead a daring assault upon Victoriatus, that saw Murtagh walk away with a split lip, and Captain Clark walk away with a black eye.

Both sides of the mock-engagement walked away exhausted and in high spirits, recounting feats of personal heroism, refuting the more exaggerated claims of others, and heading for the officer's club or the dining hall for a stiff drink or a hearty meal.

While of the dragons involved, the order of precedence was rather mangled at feeding time that night, as the members of both formations flew out together, making no distinction between weight or ability, and leaving the herdmasters staring.

* * *

A few weeks after this, Eragon and Saphira again encountered Temeraire while they took their daily flight, this time over the training valley, along with his full crew.  
At Eragon's enquiry, it was Temeraire who once again answered.  
'We're practicing manoeuvres we devised ourselves,' he said, somewhat smugly.  
_Then might you be so kind to demonstrate?_ Asked Saphira coolly. _Consider this you teaching me; flying with a single rider is one thing, but a whole crew is another._ She added.  
'It is the least I can do after you taught me what you know,' replied Temeraire graciously.  
With this, Saphira back winged to the edge of the valley, then hovered as Temeraire demonstrated, going through a very simple series of loops, corkscrews, pinpoint turns that only a dragon capable of hovering could achieve, and short level stretches.  
_I think I have it, here…_ With this, and little more warning to Eragon, Saphira surged forward, sweeping through the manoeuvre effortlessly.  
'Yes, that is right, but going so fast your crew wouldn't have hit anything,' said Temeraire with a touch of superiority.  
'They're not here though.' Replied Saphira lightly.  
_Either way, it is obvious that these sorts of manoeuvres would give us an advantage in the air, it wouldn't be too bold if we practiced these along with you, and invited Galzra and Noelfavrel along, as well as Murtagh and Thorn if they're willing to try? _Asked Eragon of Laurence and Temeraire.  
'It would be a waste if we didn't, their ability is on par with Temeraire's, and even if they can't drop bombs, they can still make life uncomfortable for any enemy near them,' called Laurence back after a brief consultation with Granby and Temeraire.  
'We'll meet you tomorrow evening then,' said Eragon, before Saphira banked away, heading for the lake.

* * *

'You mean we'll be instructed by Temeraire?' Asked Thorn, then gave a rumble of displeasure.  
'Thorn, be reasonable, Temeraire has done nothing to earn your enmity, and he doesn't seem the sort to gloat.' Replied Murtagh placatingly, he'd been trying to talk Thorn around to the idea for nearly an hour.  
Thorn snorted in response.  
'Unless there's gold or jewels involved, in which case he's an insufferable show-off,' he muttered darkly, then brightened. 'But then…we can always learn what he has to teach then modify it to suit us,' he said, raising his head at the thought.  
_That's true, and when this is all done I'll see to it you have your own treasures._ Promised Murtagh.  
_I only need you Murtagh, Temeraire can have all the gold and jewels he wants, but he'll never have what we do._ Replied Thorn. _Although, something gold would look well with my scales, yes?_ He asked with a note more of seeking confirmation than really asking.  
_Oh hellfire._ Swore Murtagh quietly to himself, in a corner of his mind he shielded from Thorn.

* * *

'That sounds like an idea, even if Galzra won't be reaching a size where she could carry more than me comfortably for a few years yet,' said Noelfavrel when he found out.  
'Yes, we'll do it, it'll be interesting to see if Temeraire can teach as well as he can talk,' said Galzra from beside Noelfavrel.

She was three months old now, and was slightly larger than Jinx and Dulcia, weighing,-in by Keyne's reckoning,- at roughly ten tonnes. 'And more than likely than not to keep going,' he'd added, shaking his head in wonder.

* * *

The next morning however, they were informed by Laurence that Celeritas had found out, and wanted them to demonstrate to the whole formation.  
With this the crews were obliged to sit and wait for Celeritas to arrive.  
Over the next half an hour, the dragons of both formations filtered in, along with their crews.

Eragon was secretly heartened to see that his own crew, like Laurence's was prompt to arrive, and although they weren't nearly as well kept in their clothing, they each had their weapons clean and wore them with a familiarity that was a testament to the hard training Eragon insisted they do, leading the sword drills himself, and drilling with the revolver Jack had given him until he was as good a shot with the pistol as he was with a bow.  
Eragon also noted that a couple of his riflemen, including Lieutenant Teel had also augmented their rifles with bows, although their hit ratio with them was far less impressive.  
Evidently, Gideon and Giles had managed to get a hold of copies of Colt's and Blake's journals and notes, because Eragon also noted several topmen and bellmen with revolvers of their own, as well as one or two of the riflemen, along with Teel bearing Springfield repeaters.  
The Lieutenant of the riflemen liked to have the best gear he could get his hands on.

'You know, you lot look like a right gang of air pirates, what with the mishmash of weapons, along with the casual uniforms,' said Jack when he and Jinx entered the training courtyard with their crew in tow.  
'Says the man who styles himself 'Captain Blood,' and spent a decade in the Americas.' Called Gregs back. 'And you don't look all that official yourself with the trench coat and bandanna,' he added with a grin.  
This elicited a laugh from the raw half of Jack's crew, and quiet chuckles from Saphira's.  
Jack turned to his crew; his old hands were dead silent.  
'Whoever was laughin', I'll have you diggin' shit-pits for the entirety of our stay in Alagaësia, then we'll see how much you have to laugh about then,' said Jack.  
All laughter died away, and several smirks froze in place.  
Now it was Jack's old hands' turn to laugh.

This died away almost immediately as Celeritas came into land, and Eragon saw behind him many of the Greylings and Winchester couriers headed in various directions, and already growing smaller.  
A little further on, Vindicatus and two other Yellow Reapers were already heading south, even though Vindicatus was supposed to be grounded for another month to recover.  
Before Celeritas had landed, all talk had died, and expectant silence fell.  
Eragon sent a message to Gideon to be ready, as well as another to Arya to grab Glaedr.

'Villeneuve and his fleet have been caught,' Celeritas said, raising his voice to be heard over the noise.  
Eragon recalled hearing Laurence and the other captains discussing something about the British Navy pursuing the French Navy across the ocean, and immediately realised that there was a battle in the offing, and this was somehow going to effect them. He cursed silently, wishing he had time to inform Nasuada, before relaying orders to the ground crew via Gideon to pack up shop and be ready to depart, along with a request to Arya to see to the safety of the supplies they'd brought from Alagaësia.  
_See to it they go back to the Varden, then catch us up tonight, I'll leave Vanir so you can perform the Charm of Crossing._ Said Eragon urgently.  
_I don't like it, but I suppose you're right, I will inform Nasuada of what has happened just as soon I can get the details from Celeritas as well._ Replied Arya, already coming out of the keep along with a mass of servants.

'They have been penned up in the port of Cadiz with the Spanish Navy also.' Continued Celeritas.  
Saphira was already standing, just as the other dragons, as Teresa, Julian and Shields began unrolling the belly-rigging while Giles and Gideon hastily packed their own equipment, which for Gideon involved packing some ingredients very carefully in padded containers; as Eragon had discovered several weeks previously, Gideon had something in common with King Orrin, in that he had a fascination with natural philosophy.  
And some of the ingredients he used while messing around with it were highly flammable, corrosive, and in some instances explosive.

'Mortiferus has been sent to Cadiz; Lily's formation must go to the channel at once to take the place of the wing, Captain Scandland, I'm sending Rosarias' formation also, you all already know the manoeuvres, you just need experience,' he said, then cast an eye over Harcourt.  
'Captain Harcourt, Excidium remains at the channel, and he has eighty years' experience; you and Lily must train with him in every free moment you have. I am giving Captain Sutton command over your formation, and giving Captain Clark command over Rosarias' for the moment; this is no reflection on your work, Captain Harcourt, Captain Scandland, but with this abbreviation of your respective trainings, we must have more experience in the roles.'  
'Then put me 'n' Jinx up, we've served up a bath-tub-and-a-half of blood over the past decade, while Vicky over there's been hangin' 'round England skirmishing!' Called Jack.  
'Captain Blood, your nickname is well earned, and that is half the problem with you, do not question my decision.' Replied Celeritas mildly.  
Jack shrugged. 'Had to try,' he said and subsided.  
It was more usual for the captain of the lead dragon of a formation to be the commander, largely because that dragon had to lead off every manoeuvre, but the two Captains nodded.  
'Yes, certainly,' said Harcourt.  
'Right, just so long as you understand this is temporary,' said Scandland, directing the second part of this comment at Clark, who chuckled wryly.  
'Something tells me Rosarias would knock me for six if I didn't,' he said with a weak smile.

Eragon felt a quick flash of sympathy for both Captains, very likely this would be their first actions, or nearly.  
He'd heard Harcourt say Lily hadn't been expected to hatch for another five years, and heard Scandland tell of the mixed fortune that'd seen her made captain of Rosarias.  
Celeritas gave them an approving nod. 'Captain Sutton, Captain Clark, you will naturally consult with your formation leaders as far as possible.'  
'Of course,' said Sutton, bowing to Harcourt from his position on Messoria's back.  
'And don't forget, Thorn and I have leave to fly as we like,' said Saphira pointedly.  
'Right, you here that Clark, you've got to consult with me as much as possible, we clear?' Asked Jack.  
'Can it Dyer.' Said Scandland.  
The baggage was stowed, and Glaedr was put into the care of Vanir, as Eragon reasoned the chance of discovery was less if he entrusted Glaedr to the young elf, while Arya guarded the egg.  
It was a dangerous choice, but so was having him in close proximity with Gideon.

Celeritas took a moment to inspect each of harness in turn. 'Very good: try your loads. Maximus, begin.'  
One by one all the dragons except Galzra rose to their hind legs, wind tearing across the courtyard as they beat their wings and tried to shake the rigging loose; one by one they dropped and reported: 'all lies well.'  
'Ground crews aboard,' Celeritas said, and the various ground crews scrambled to obey, and Eragon noted that Jinx's ground crew all bore Springfields of their own.  
Gregs nudged Eragon, indicating the signal strap, which indicated the ground crew were ready.  
Eragon nodded to Pearson, his young signal ensign.  
The green flag went up as it went up on Temeraire's back.  
The flags on Praecursoris' and Maximus' backs went up a moment later, the smaller dragons were already waiting, Galzra already hovering above waiting for them.  
Celeritas sat back on his haunches.  
'Fly well,' he said simply.  
There was nothing more, no further ceremony or preparation.  
But before Sutton's signal ensign raised the flag for _formation-go-aloft_, Eragon had one last thing to say to the training master:  
'May the sun be at your back, and the wind rise under your wings,' he said, raising a hand in farewell.  
And much to his surprise, a call of 'Aye!' went up among the crew.  
Then the flag was raised and the formation was going aloft, causing Galzra to surge away to a safe distance, then rise through the middle of the formation to take her position above.

The wind was in the northeast, almost directly behind them, and as they rose through the cloud cover, Eragon could see the faint glimmer of sunlight on water.  
'Once again, war calls, and we answer.' Said Eragon low.  
'Then we will acquit ourselves with honour for the betterment of our nations.' Said Gregs firmly.  
Saphira glanced back as she flew.  
'What nation? Eragon and I serve a rebellion, remember?' She asked.

**This chapter was **_**annoying**_**.**

**I couldn't get myself to write, and the number of ideas I had to fill in the roughly two month gap in the remainder of the canon chapter\part…**

**Still, the good news is that this is moving canonically into part three, and if you've read the book, I'm pretty sure you can guess at some of the stuff coming up…**

***Insert main instrumental theme from **_**Pirates of the Caribbean**_** here, for dramatic effect and to set the right mood.***

**So, thanks owed:**

**For Story Alerting: NicoleBuddy**

**For Reviewing: Hideout Writer and T2238**

**That's a little slack guys, I've written it, it's good manners to review.**

**'til next time:**

**No One-liners.**


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter XXX

A Night in Middlesbrough

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

The two formations flew hard, all through the day, not even stopping to rest, although the younger dragons, Vindexia, Galzra and Noctus in particular, had to be supported by one of the heavier dragons at some points to rest a little, before taking off again a short while later.  
When Saphira landed that evening in a covert at Middlesbrough, they were met by a very uncomfortable Rankin, along with Arya, Angela, Solembum, Levitas and Vanir.  
Arya cast a sidelong glance at Rankin.  
'We appreciate your assistance Captain Rankin, Levitas, you've saved us a good deal of time.' Said Arya neutrally.  
With this clear dismissal, Rankin left, looking deeply relieved, closely followed by Levitas.  
'Everything is back with the Varden, except the egg and You-Know-What, and Nasuada says that if you're out of training for now, then the first chance you get, you're to lead elements of the formation promised to us to Aroughs; winter is approaching, and Nasuada wants the siege broken before it starts,' said Arya.  
Eragon nodded.  
'We'll do that, just as soon as we get to Dover and let whoever's in charge there know, so it doesn't look like desertion,' he said.  
'What? You mean you've been recalled?' Asked one of Saphira's bellmen, a bulky young man with flame red hair and piercing sapphire eyes with a Scottish accent  
called Ned McBride.  
'Wrong,' said Eragon, aware that McBride had attracted the attention of the whole crew from his two runners right through to Gregs, 'Lady Nasuada has ordered me to the city of Aroughs to break the siege there before winter hits; I rather thought that I'd bring you all along as well, the Varden need every sword at the minute.' Explained Eragon to the expectant crew.  
'And we're being told to lead Rosarias' formation to break the siege?' Clarified Teel.  
'Yes, or however much of it we'll be allowed to bring along,' replied Eragon.  
This started general mutterings, until Saphira growled to silence them.  
'If you don't want to come along when we go, we won't hold it against you, you owe no loyalty to the Varden, and we won't ask you to fight our fight if you do not choose to.' She said to them.  
'Either way, we've got a few days yet before we can even consider leaving, so there's no need to decide yet; but if anyone wants to stay behind, let me know between now and when Saphira and I leave.' Stated Eragon.  
With this, the crew dispersed themselves to their own affairs for the night, and Eragon went to report to the covert commander, then to report to Nasuada.

* * *

After dinner, Eragon called the Captains of Rosarias' formation together in a quiet corner of the officers club, and told them of Nasuada's orders.  
'By my count,' said Macintyre, leaning back in his chair and plonking his boots on the table, 'we've still got three months of training before we're supposed to be heading out to support your liege lady's rebellion.'  
'You ever fought on the attacking side of a siege Mac?' Asked Clark, glancing at the young captain.  
'No, I used to serve on Artemesia, and Mortiferus before her, I've seen combat before, and I've sat on blockade as well, so I don't see why we have to put our lives, our crew's lives, and our dragon's lives on the line for a pack of incompetent-'  
'I didn't think so,' continued Clark, cutting Macintyre off. 'Sieges are like blockade duty only worse, because you're trying to defeat an enemy in a heavily defended position, they usually have enough supplies to survive blockade, they have the high ground, and they have infinitely better quarters; in the meantime, the attackers live in a tent city, with bad food, little shelter and warmth, and the defenders taking pot-shots at you at any opportunity, usually with siege equipment or long-nines, and in winter it gets even better: frostbite, hard-frozen ground, minimal game to augment stocks, so there's short rations as well, plus it's even worse for lack of warmth, and that eats morale faster than being outnumbered twenty times over.' Explained Clark, listing each item off on his fingers.  
'And also, Jörmundur isn't incompetent, he's the second in command of the Varden's forces,' said Eragon, 'and Nasuada doesn't suffer fools in command either.' He added.  
Macintyre grunted, but subsided.  
'Anyway,' began Clark, 'We're at something of an impasse here though, Rosarias is the key to the formation, so she can't very well go, and I'm the temporary commander, so Victoriatus and I can't go either,' he began.  
'And I'm not taking Vindexia into that sort of action until we're full out of training, she's not even full-grown yet either,' cut in Macintyre, with a look that dared them to disagree.  
'Well that's good, that means Jinx and I are free and easy to go, how about you and Mort, Sturn?' Asked Jack, nudging the younger man in the ribs.  
Sturn was quiet for a moment.  
'In truth? I'd have to talk it over with Mortarius, he's eager to go, but we're both very aware that we'd be vastly outclassed in a straight flying contest with a Frog dragon, not to mention against a dragon like Saphira or Thorn,' he said at last.  
'Okay, so one going, one maybe, two staying, what about you two, Gloria? Logan?' Asked Dyer, before Eragon could end the discussion as concluded.  
'Noctus and I can go, we don't have any crew asides from our ground crew as yet, and he's not liable to go too far above courier weight, so we don't have crew to worry about beyond possibly a rifleman or two when he's a bit bigger, so yeah, we'll go,' said Grimmer, nodding.  
'Captain Scandland? Asked Eragon. 'What Clark says makes good sense, but you make up your own mind; although I recommend you take Clark's advice.' He said.  
'Like Sturn, I'll discuss it with Rosarias, but I think she'll be up for it,' replied Scandland. 'And besides, green I might be, but I can look after myself.' She added.  
'We're still not under the good Lady's command until we actually go to Alagaësia; thus she has no control over us until that time comes,' pointed out Macintyre.  
'I'm just telling you in advance and giving you a chance to refuse before Nasuada's request to the admiralty becomes an order from them,' replied Eragon.  
'Besides, seeing action here probably won't prepare us for seeing action over there,' pointed out Jack, 'I saw a couple of Indian warriors going at it with tomahawks once, that was utterly brutal, and from what Eragon and Murtagh have said they fight more like during the crusades, only with the addition of magic and less dragons.' He added.  
'You're right,' said Eragon with a nod. 'As riders, you'll be expected to fight at the forefront of the Varden's army; you'll most likely have bodyguards of formidable skill, as well as members of Du Vrangr Gata, or the elven spell casters sent to guard me to make up for your lack of magical talent, but you'll still be seeing more fighting than you'll probably have been used to as captains.' Explained Eragon.  
'Well, shit.' Said Jack simply. 'That means me and my crew'll most likely be taking on the entire stuffing army single handedly, with little ammo and no resupply.' He elaborated when the others looked at him.  
'Poppycock.' Replied Macintyre. 'You might've seen some action over in the Americas, but I do not believe you're lot took on an army single-handed.'  
'Not at the same time at least, but in total we did.' muttered Jack darkly.

* * *

It was chilly out, and dark.  
Not that either of those things bothered Murtagh.  
The sky was clear and the moon was a waxing crescent high in the sky.  
_Where are you going, and what are you up to?_ Asked Thorn suspiciously.  
_Nothing, I just wanted a little time to be by myself. No Eragon, no Kaleen, nor any of our crew; naturally you're excluded from that list,-I can never be truly alone with you around,-but that's different._ Replied Murtagh.  
_And what is on your mind my friend? Don't deny it, for I can see it plainly that something is bothering you, even if you are hiding exactly what from me._ Asked Thorn.  
_I'm not entirely sure myself._ Admitted Murtagh. _But since we left Loch Laggan this morning I've felt…like something isn't right, like we're on the eve of battle and their's someone after us, someone walking over my grave…_ Murtagh trailed off. _And I'm willing to bet that Frenchman has something to do with it;_ _don't say I'm being too judgemental because of his nationality,- something about him just doesn't sit right._ Mused Murtagh.  
_You aren't developing feelings for someone maybe? Kaleen perhaps?_ Quizzed Thorn.  
_No,_ replied Murtagh, _I took her as my First Lieutenant for the exact reason that she knows her work, and that we both respect each other, but we don't like the other's methods, plus she was the best out of the remaining lieutenants after Eragon and Laurence recruited Gregs and Granby._ He explained.  
Murtagh got the distinct feeling of putting two and two together coming from Thorn.  
_It's someone else you have feelings for maybe, Scandland perhaps, or maybe Harcourt?_ Mused Thorn.  
Murtagh chuckled aloud.  
_Okay, I do feel sorry for Catherine and Lily, they've barely been together as long as we have, and they've got a crew to manage without the benefit of a bond like ours._ Admitted Murtagh.  
_And you think she looks well?_ Prompted Thorn.  
_Don't get to far ahead of yourself; yes she is attractive, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to let anyone else into my life besides you; everyone I get close to ends up hurt._ Replied Murtagh.  
_Just keep telling yourself that then and you'll be fine, but you should return soon, we have a long day's flight tomorrow and it would pay to sleep and rest, lest your unease prove to be well-founded._ Advised Thorn.

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and crisp,-if cloudy as usual,- and the formations were in the air, flying south at a steady pace.  
Choiseul and Praecursoris had flown on ahead, not having to be limited to the pace of the two formations, but his presence wasn't missed.  
Eragon though was feeling tense, and he wasn't the only one.  
_This is about where we rescued Vindicatus before, I don't know if the French would lay an ambush here to get some poetic revenge, but stay alert._ Said Murtagh to Eragon.  
_I agree._ Replied Eragon, then on a hunch, reached out to Noelfavrel.  
_Noelfavrel, Galzra, watch the area above us, we don't want anyone surprising us from above._ He said.  
Before Noelfavrel could reply, Gideon spoke up.  
_Boss, we've got company, closing in fast, I can feel them._ He said.  
'Gregs, tell the men to get ready, we've got-'  
He didn't finish, at that minute, a pair of Pêcheur Couronnés came barrelling out of the clouds ahead, roaring challenges.  
'_Ambush!'_ Bellowed Eragon to everyone in the formations, both mentally and vocally.

**I'll leave this here for now, mainly because I can't think of a better place for it.**

**Canonically, Part Three starts next chapter, and you know what that means…**

**Now, thanks owed this time around:**

**For Reviewing: T2238, Hideout Writer and Twitchel.**

**Thanks you three, and I apologise for the cliffhangar, but that's just the way it goes.**

**Oh, and sorry that this is a bit late, internet was playing up, and circumstances conspired to make this post a bit late.**

**So, 'til next time:**

**No One-liners.**


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter XXXI

Skirmish

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

Eragon had to admit, whoever had coordinated the ambush was good.  
_Really _good.  
As if-

-A mental ray slammed into Eragon's defences causing him to wince involuntarily.  
Without missing a beat, Eragon joined minds with Saphira, dropped his defences, then jabbed his attacker's mind back, before ruthlessly crushing them and locating them.  
Surprisingly, it came from a dragon that had just made a lunge for Lily.  
_Saphira._ Urged Eragon, and Saphira beat up, then flew over her two assailants, and a few seconds later, while Teel cursed, the riflemen on both of Saphira's sides fired off a volley, before they were away, arrowing straight for Lily and her assailant,-a Pêcheur Rayé,- faster than the two Couronnés could turn as Eragon grappled with the unknown magician.  
'Gregs,' said Eragon through clenched teeth, 'this isn't your ordinary ambush.'  
'I noticed, the attack's too coordinated for them to be using flags or guns.' Replied Gregs, already with a flintlock in hand.  
'They've got magicians.' Stated Saphira, as she beat into a hover momentarily,-a manoeuvre that Eragon had made certain the crew practiced for, and he was pleased to see that while a few of them staggered, they kept their feet.  
Then she broadsided the Rayé, all claws extended, roaring in savage triumph.  
The impact jarred everyone loose, and it was only Eragon's elven reflexes that allowed him to catch himself before he impaled himself on Saphira's spines.  
Greg's wasn't so lucky, and let out a muffled 'hoomph', then picked himself up, with a hole in his heavy leather overcoat, showing a burnished steel breastplate beneath.  
Eragon looked at him startled.  
_Precaution against just that sort of accident._ Said Gregs as he clambered onto Saphira's shoulder, and immediately fired his flintlock.

'Boarders below!' Called Gideon's voice, followed by a trio of shots, one after the other,-too evenly spaced to be flintlocks.  
Eragon scrambled up onto Saphira's shoulder himself, latching and unlatching his carabiners almost unconsciously, then slid down the bottom of Saphira's breast-band until he caught hold in the rigging to find Ned, and Zoë Cohen,-one of two young woman on Saphira's flight crew,- closely engaged with a trio of French aviators, and another three hanging dead from their straps, each with a bullet wound to the chest.  
Eragon stabbed out with Brisingr, and caught one of the French aviators in the neck, and he fell back gurgling as the enemy dragon began shrieking in pain, and above riflemen began taking aim.  
Three more gunshots rang out from almost directly next to Eragon's head, and two of the French fell back dead, rifles falling from nerveless fingers.  
_Remind me to thank Colt and Blake for giving us the schematics for these later._ Said Gideon in Eragon's head, and he saw that the young gunner had already switched out his empty block for a fresh one.

'McBride, Cohen, with me.' said Eragon, then jabbed the enemy magician's mind again.  
'Gideon!' Shouted Eragon, and instantly the gunner was clambering from the belly rigging up to them.  
'You called Boss-man?'  
'I want you to join minds with me and keep this bastard French wizard busy,' said Eragon.  
Gideon raised an eyebrow.  
'You're a mind-breaker aren't you? And I've showed you how to do it, so step to,' ordered Eragon, and Gideon obeyed, his face setting into determined lines, then he was moving through Eragon until he was battering at the enemy magician's mind with scarcely less ferocity than Eragon.  
With the enemy distracted, Eragon tapped into the magic.  
'Unclip and jump!' Ordered Eragon to Ned and Zoë, then jumped himself, followed barely a second later by the two bellmen.  
'Flauga!' Roared Eragon, and they shot forward, until they were over the Pêcheur Rayé, then they dropped, landing boots first, at which point they latched on tight, and Saphira did the same, sinking her claws into her foe, who by now really wanted to be away.  
The French were momentarily astounded by their daring boarding,-a fact Eragon exploited, locating the enemy magician with his thoughts, then fluidly drawing his revolver and shooting him in the head.  
Eragon's next targets were some of the nearer topmen, before the block went dry, and the French recovered themselves and it was back to honest sword work.  
Zoë, Ned and Eragon were ranged back to back, with Eragon facing the dragon's captain.  
'Gregs! The enemy magician is dead!' Called Eragon as loud as he could.  
_Saphira there's no time for mercy, flame them._ Said Eragon.  
_What!_ Said Saphira incredulously, and with a note of revulsion.  
_I don't like it any more than you do, but we must do it, like when we fought Thorn after the Burning Plains._ Replied Eragon.  
_Then offer them the chance to surrender._ Replied Saphira, fixing him with an accusing sapphire eye.  
Eragon turned to face the French captain, and lowered Brisingr fractionally.  
'Capitaine, Lâchez vos armes et rendez vous, et tes vies en sera épargné.' Said Eragon, hoping he hadn't mangled the pronunciation too badly.  
The man's dragon cried out again in pain as Saphira dug her claws in deeper.  
The French captain hesitated, then looked at his men locked closely in combat with Zoë and Ned, then his dragon screamed again, an awful sound that bespoke real pain.  
'On se rend! On se rend! Lâchez vos armes!' Called the man in obvious anguish, shouting the last to his men, who looked at him in shock; the ones engaged with Ned and Zoë ignored the order, and met their deaths at the end of Brisingr.  
The remaining crewmen threw down their weapons as Saphira spat a tongue of flame into the air for show.  
_Satisfied?_ Asked Eragon, as he and his two companions advanced, weapons ready for the least sign of treachery.  
When they reached the man, he unbuckled his sword and pistol without complaint as Eragon held his pistol to the man's head and the captain ordered his men below into the belly rigging.  
_Gregs get over here, and bring two other topmen, you have command here._ Called Eragon, and moments later, Gregs arrived with two more of the topmen as ordered.  
With the Rayé in no condition to continue in the battle, Eragon jumped back over to Saphira, and was startled to see how far from the engagement they'd drifted.

Temeraire was busy savaging a Fleur-de-Nuit, while at the front of the formation Messoria was fending off another French middleweight, while Thorn was holding his own with a Chanson-de-Guerre, while Galzra nipped in now and again after a French volley to make a nuisance of herself.

Meanwhile, Rosarias' formation had gotten well clear of the battle, a wise choice considering that of the two inexperienced formations, they were the more inexperienced.  
The only exception was Jinx. With his and Jack's devil-may-care attitude, and knowing they were expendable compared with the larger dragons, they were making seemingly suicidal passes near the larger French dragons, while their riflemen gave the French utter hell with their repeaters.  
_Let's get back to the fighting, it looks like they need us._ Said Eragon.  
Saphira growled low in answer, and put on a burst of speed.

* * *

Murtagh gritted his teeth in frustration.  
The enemy Chanson-de-Guerre had a pair of Galbatorix's pet magicians aboard him, and while they hadn't savaged the crew, they were tying Murtagh up in a protracted mental duel.  
Singly, neither was a match for Murtagh, particularly with Thorn's help.  
But with Thorn busy battling the de-Guerre, and the two magicians ganging up on him, Murtagh was effectively unable to be much use.  
_Thorn, now would be a particularly useful time to remember how to breath fire._ Said Murtagh, before firing an arrow at a too-curious lieutenant, who promptly caught said arrow in the middle of the forehead.  
_We either need some support or a gods-damned miracle._ Thought Murtagh bitterly, and then stabbed his mind into the minds of his two enemies, and pressing the assault.

What Murtagh got, wasn't a miracle, and it wasn't support; at least, in the sense that the British dragons really didn't want it to turn up.

* * *

As Galzra came spiralling out of one strafing run, flicking a man's corpse from her blood slicked talons, Noelfavrel glanced up from reloading his rifle and looked overhead as a shadow passed over them, and a cacophony of thoughts in French reached him.  
He knew instantly what was going on, knew exactly what the consequences were going to be, and was powerless to do anything but-

'_Enemy above!'_ He roared, with both mind and voice to the formation.

Then he slammed the repeater shut, just as a truly gigantic dragon,-bigger even than Maximus, practically identical in colouration to the Petit Chevalier they'd left to be dealt with by Arya and Vanir,- dived out of the clouds, roaring at the top of it's voice.  
_Galzra, if ever you can get us above and behind that thing, do it._ Said Noelfavrel grimly.  
_Don't miss, every shot counts now._ Replied Galzra, then beat up, cutting above the Grand Chevalier.

* * *

Noelfavrel's shout reached Laurence on Temeraire's back, and he glanced up, and immediately saw what Noelfavrel had.  
'Temeraire! Quickly, get behind Lily!' Shouted Laurence urgently.  
Granby gave him a questioning look, then looked up himself, then immediately set about preparing the crew for the imminent fighting.  
Then the cry was taken up by Maximus' larboard lookout, only to be drowned out by a terrible, thick roaring, almost like thunder as the Grand Chevalier came plummeting down at them.  
The dragon's pale belly had allowed it to approach from above undetected by the lookouts.  
Only it's shadow, and Noelfavrel playing lookout had given them the few second's extra warning.  
Now it descended towards Lily, great claws opening wide; it was nearly twice her size, and outweighed even Maximus.

Laurence looked back, and saw Saphira,-who'd been put out of the fighting by the Pêcheur Rayé she'd stopped to maul,- put on a burst of speed, though she was too far off to prevent the Grand Chevalier from making contact.

A furious roar of frustration came from Thorn, who promptly seized his opponent by the neck and began shaking him vigorously, before with a sickening crack, the Chanson-de-Guerre's neck broke, and he fell away.  
Thus free from his opponent, and his jaws streaming near-black dragon blood, Thorn also put on a burst of speed, desperately trying to intercept the Grand Chevalier.

Laurence was also shocked to see Immortalis and Messoria both suddenly drop: he realized belatedly it was the reflex Celeritas had warned them about so many months previously; a reaction to being startled from above. Nitidus gave a startled jerk of his wings, and Dulcia had maintained her position, whilst Jinx was also heading to try and intercept the Grand Chevalier, although his much smaller size made the manoeuvre suicidal.-Laurence could hear Jack cursing and ordering his men to reload, and 'prepare to let the sneaking Froggy bastards have every shot you've got!'

Maximus had given a burst of speed and overshot the others, and Lily was wheeling about in instinctive alarm. The formation had dissolved into chaos, and Lily was wholly exposed.

'Ready all guns; straight at him!' Laurence roared frantically, signalling frantically to Temeraire; it was unnecessary, for after a moment's hovering, Temeraire had already launched himself to Lily's defence.  
The Chevalier was too close to deflect entirely, but Laurence felt sure that they could at least distract the colossal dragon long enough for Saphira, Thorn and Jinx to close, prevent him from latching onto Lily and save her a fatal mauling, give her time to strike back and for the formation to recover.  
The other three French dragons were all coming about again. Temeraire put on a burst of speed, and just managed to slip past the reaching claws of a Pêcheur Couronné, and collided with the great French beast with all his claws outstretched, even as the Chevalier slashed at Lily's back.  
She shrieked in pain and fury, thrashing, even as a rapid-fire, protracted cacophony of rifle shots rang out somewhere above as Jinx's crew unloaded with their six-shot 'repeaters'.  
Then Thorn was there, slamming into the Chevalier from the opposite side, roaring in fury and from the way the Chevalier lurched, was putting up one hell of a fight.  
The four dragons were all entangled now, beating their wings furiously in opposite directions, clawing and slashing.  
Then Saphira caught up, but was forced to circle at a distance, and remain out of the fight; the four dragons were so closely engaged that if she breathed fire, there was more chance she'd harm friend than foe, and there was a high chance she wouldn't be able to get close to the Grand Chevalier.  
Lily couldn't spit upwards; they had to get her loose, but Temeraire and Thorn,-for all their fury and fight,- were much smaller than the Chevalier, and Laurence could see it's claws sinking deeper into Lily's flesh, even though her crew were hacking at the iron hard talons with axes.  
'Get a bomb up here,' Laurence snapped to Granby, then extended his mind out until he felt Eragon's mind.  
When the Rider let Laurence in, he quickly outlined the plan.  
_We're going to try and throw a bomb into the Chevalier's belly-rigging, can you detonate it at that distance?_ Asked Laurence.  
_Yes, but this is risky, if you pull out Saphira and I could probably-  
__There's no time._ Snapped Laurence.  
Eragon grudgingly subsided.  
Temeraire kept slashing away with blind passion, his sides belling out for breath; he roared so tremendously his body vibrated with the force and Laurence's ears ached, while on the Chevalier's opposite side Thorn clawed away with equal savagery, whilst also battering the Chevalier with his spiked tail. The Chevalier shuddered in pain; and Laurence also heard Maximus roaring, both dragons blocked by the French dragon's bulk. The attack had it's effect: the Chevalier bellowed in his deep hoarse voice, and his claws sprang free.  
'Cut loose,' Laurence shouted. 'Temeraire; cut loose, get between him and Lily.' In answer, Temeraire pulled himself free and dropped, thus clearing the way for Saphira to fly into the Chevalier's flank and bathe his bloodied side in blue-tinged flames.  
The Chevalier roared in agony, and slashed at Saphira, one of his huge claws tearing the membrane of Saphira's wing.  
Saphira cried out in turn, but Laurence was also surprised to see Eragon fall, clutching at his shoulder.  
Lily was moaning, streaming blood, and was losing elevation rapidly. Having driven off the Chevalier was not enough: the other dragons were now as great a danger to her, until she could get back aloft into fighting position.  
Saphira swooped down closer to Lily, seeming to favour her injured left wing slightly, and hovered above her; even injured she was still formidable enough to dissuade an attack, Laurence saw Eragon, ashen faced climb unsteadily to his feet, and also saw Arya climbing fluidly up Saphira's side.

A flicker of movement drew his attention back to Lily in time to see her belly rigging fall away like a great net sinking down through the clouds, and bombs, supplies, baggage, all went tumbling down and vanished into the waters of the channel below; her ground crew were all tying themselves to the main harness instead.  
Thus lightened, Lily shuddered, and made a great effort, beating back up into the sky; the wounds were being packed with white bandages, but even at a distance Laurence could see she would need stitching.  
Saphira's wounds however were already closing of their own volition, evidently Arya was a magician in her own right.  
Now Saphira rose slowly herself, growling menacingly, smoke trailing from her nostrils.

Maximus had the Chevalier engaged, but the Pêcheur Couronnés and the Fleur-de-Nuit were falling into a small wedge formation, preparing to make a dash at Lily again, even as Thorn disengaged from the Chevalier in favour of protecting her.  
Temeraire and Saphira maintained their positions just above Lily, and Temeraire hissed threateningly, his bloody claws flexing, while Saphira breathed fire above her head in a very showy and visible display of intimidation; but Lily was climbing too slowly.  
The battle had turned into a wild melee by now; although the British dragons had now recovered from their initial fright, they were in no sort of order, and Rosarias' formation was fast coming back after the arrival of the Grand Chevalier.  
Harcourt was wholly occupied with Lily's difficulties, and the last French dragon, another Pêcheur-Rayé, was fighting Messoria far below, whilst Galzra and Jinx ineffectually tried to draw it's attention. Clearly the French had identified Sutton as the commander, and were keeping him out of the way; a strategy Laurence could grimly admire. He had no authority to take command, he was the most junior captain in the party, save for Noelfavrel, but something had to be done.  
Also, Murtagh and Eragon were oddly silent, as Laurence remembered during practice sessions, the two Riders had often coordinated manoeuvres via telepathy. At the same time he noticed that the French attack was more coordinated than he'd seen in their previous engagement, or in the practice sessions using flags.  
He drew the conclusion that Eragon had been right about the pact between Galbatorix and Napoleon, because only telepathic communication could explain the coordination of the French, and the silence of the two Alagaësians Laurence put down to their being occupied duelling with the French magicians.  
'Turner,' said Laurence, catching his young signal ensign's attention; but before he gave any order, the British dragons were already wheeling around and in motion.  
'Signal, sir, _form up around leader,_' Turner said, pointing.

Laurence looked back and saw Praecursoris taking up Maximus' usual place with signal-flags waving: not being limited to the formation's pace, Choiseul and the big dragon had gone on ahead of them, but his lookouts had evidently caught sight of the battle and he had now returned. Laurence tapped Temeraire's shoulder to draw his attention to the signal. 'I see it,' Temeraire called back, and at once back-winged and settled into his proper position.  
Another signal flashed, and with a frustrated growl, Thorn pulled into the gap in the formation where Messoria usually was. _Formation rise together_, the next signal came, as Saphira,-free from guarding Lily from attack surged forward to come to grips with a new foe.  
With the other dragons around her, Lily took heart and was able to beat up more strongly: the bleeding had stopped at last. The trio of French dragons had separated; they could no longer hope to succeed with a collective charge, not straight into Lily's jaws, and what's more, Saphira had temporarily blinded the Fleur-de-Nuit with a blast of her fire into the air.  
The formation would be up to the level of the Chevalier any minute.  
_Maximus break away,_ the signal flashed: Maximus was still engaged at close quarters with the Chevalier, which was turning it's unburnt side towards the Regal Copper, while rifles were cracking away on both sides. Maximus gave a final slash of his claws and pushed away: just a fraction too soon, for the formation was not yet high enough, and another few moments were necessary before Lily was able to strike, although Saphira had just closed, and showing reckless disregard for the fact that the Chevalier was at least four times her size, outweighed her by somewhere around twenty tonnes, and could more than likely kill her with a single swipe.  
It became obvious that Saphira was used to fighting above her weight, as she was careful to avoid that hit, whilst dashing in every now and then to claw at the Chevalier, or blast him with fire, although most of these arced around the French heavyweight in spectacular conflagrations, as if parted by some invisible barrier.  
The Chevalier's crew had seen the fresh danger, but with Saphira harassing the bigger dragon, it took another few moments to get him to go aloft, by which time Lily was in position.  
With no apparent signal, Saphira dove away, twisting away to the east, and clearing the path for Lily to spray. Which she promptly did.

But to Laurence's surprise, the acid, like Saphira's fire was stopped cold by an unseen force.  
Then, the steaming grey liquid was thrust back at them-

-only for Thorn to roar in defiance and loose a ravening jet of red-tinged flame which intercepted the acid and turned it to steam.  
Thus stalemated, the French dragon went back aloft, with a great deal of shouting in French going on aboard. Though he was bleeding from many wounds, as well as burnt on one side, the Chevalier was so large that these did not hamper him severely, and he was still able to climb quicker than the injured Lily. After a moment, Choiseul signalled, _Formation hold elevation, _and they gave up the pursuit, as Saphira swooped up from below, and took her usual outrider position on the formation's right flank.  
The French dragons came together in a loose cluster, wheeling as they considered their next attack.  
But as one they all turned and fled rapidly north-east, the Pêcheur-Rayê engaged with Messoria disengaging also, only for Jinx to come after it and his crew to cut loose with a withering volley as a last gesture of defiance, very much like a man saying: 'and don't come back!'

Laurence saw that Rosarias' formation had finally caught up, but Temeraire's lookouts were all calling and pointing south, and when Laurence looked over his shoulder he saw ten dragons flying towards them at great speed, British signals flashing out from the Longwing in the lead.

**And I'll leave this chapter here.**

**Sure, in the book that's the end of a paragraph, but this is a Fanfiction after all.**

**If you want to know what Eragon said this chapter, run it through a French translator.**

**Same with what the French captain said.**

**So, thanks owed this time around:**

**For reviewing, I'd like to thank: dragonshina, Hideout Writer, and give a very special thank you to NicoleBuddy, for reviewing no less than EIGHT times!**

**So, until I see you all next week, I'll say 'til next time!**

**Also:**

**No One-liners!**


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter XXXII

Dover

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

The Longwing was indeed Excidium; he and his formation accompanied them along the rest of the journey to the Dover covert, with the two Chequered Nettles among them taking it in turns to support Lily on the way, while Rosarias and Victoriatus took turns supporting the captured Pêcheur Rayé.  
Lily was making reasonable progress, but her head was drooping, and she made a very heavy landing, her legs trembling so that the crew barely managed to scramble off before she crumpled to the ground.  
Lily wasn't the only one who'd been injured:  
Maximus had also been injured by the Grand Chevalier, while Immortalis, Messoria, Thorn and Saphira had accrued injuries of their own, though Thorn's and Saphira's were more minor,-mainly due to Eragon and Murtagh healing the more serious ones as they were dealt,- and of Rosarias' formation, Jinx had also taken several hits from musket fire, along with Jack and several of his crew members.  
Of all of these, Thorn and Saphira were the quickest healed,-thanks once again to Murtagh and Eragon,- and Jack complained the least, actually telling the surgeons to leave off trying to take a bullet from his bicep and attend to his crew first, even though his neck cloth was crimson with blood, and he was looking rather pasty.  
None of them were as badly injured as Lily though.

Thorn, Saphira and Temeraire, Galzra and the other uninjured dragons landed at the edge of the covert's landing grounds to give the others more room.  
'Aren't you going to get the surgeons to have a look at Saphira and Thorn?' Asked Laurence with a frown.  
'They have more pressing concerns than a few surface scratches;' Saphira replied, 'don't bother with them Eragon, they won't even leave scars.' She added to Eragon, who was about to begin healing a gash on her shoulder.  
Thorn on the other hand was staying low, wings outspread, as Murtagh healed first the few holes in his wings from musket balls, then a number of short but deep puncture wounds made when the Chanson-de-Guerre had tackled him.  
Satisfied with Saphira's answer, Laurence gave the order for the crew to disembark and unpack, whilst meanwhile Thorn's and Saphira's crews did much the same thing.

* * *

It took several hours to get the dragons settled down and fed, a time in which Eragon remained tense and on edge.  
The battle had left him with a deep sense of dissatisfaction, despite the fact that they'd managed to capture yet another dragon off the French.  
Fortunately, it was a very large covert, covering perhaps a hundred acres, including cattle pastures, and it was an easy matter to find a clearing large enough to accommodate Saphira and Galzra together.  
This arrangement had come about because,-as Keynes had predicted,- the aviators had been scandalised upon learning of Galzra's magically acquired gifts, and extremely jealous.  
Celeritas hadn't even suggested giving Noelfavrel a ground crew, knowing how deep-seated such feelings could be, meaning the pair had become more or less a permanent extension to Saphira's own,-by no means small,- crew.

Eragon was walking,-lost in his own thoughts,- when he discovered that Thorn's clearing was also quite close by, by means of nearly literally bumping into Murtagh.  
They were both silent a while, then Eragon finally spoke.  
'I saw what you and Thorn did today.' Said Eragon evenly.  
Much to Eragon's surprise, Murtagh looked away looking shamefaced.  
'It was a brave thing attacking that Chevalier like that, he was in his prime, and he was fully capable of battle, and you did it anyway in the hope of drawing them away from Harcourt and Lily.' Added Eragon.  
He frowned when Murtagh remained silent and wouldn't meet his gaze.  
'You wouldn't be so full of praise if you'd seen what we did to get their in time.' Replied Murtagh low.  
'I did see it, I won't deny that it revolted me to my core, but it was necessary, they attacked us, and it was a clean fight; I asked Saphira to flame our captive instead of save him to get back to the fight quicker,' replied Eragon also looking at the ground. 'It was only Saphira's urging that made me ask the French captain to surrender.'  
Murtagh glanced up, and Eragon forced himself to meet his half-brother's gaze.  
'Then we're both as bad as the other.' Murtagh said.  
'That doesn't stop it leaving a bad taste in my mouth.' Replied Eragon.  
They were silent after that for a moment, then they both noticed something.  
'Isn't that one of your runners?' They both asked at the same time, indicating a person coming from behind the other.  
With that, they both turned their attentions to their respective runners.  
'Admiral Lenton would like to see you sir.' Said Eragon's runner, a boy of ten by the name of Jacob Hawker.  
Eragon frowned.  
'Very good Jacob, I'll be right there.' Said Eragon, then dismissed the boy with a wave of his hand.  
With that, he set off in the direction of the covert headquarters, letting Saphira know as he went.  
And pondering whether or not a certain shared name had any significance, barely registering Murtagh beside him.

* * *

As Eragon entered the senior officer's dining room, he was greeted by many raised voices, despite the late hour; the other captains of the formation, along with those of Rosarias' were assembled at the long table where their own meal was going nearly untouched.  
Laurence was already there.  
'How's Lily doing?' Asked Eragon taking an empty seat between Dyer and Sutton.  
Harcourt, Noelfavrel and Immortalis's Captain Little were the only ones not present.  
'He cut her to the bone, the great coward, but that is all we know,' said Dulcia's Captain Chenery. 'They're still sewing her up and she hasn't taken anything to eat.'

Eragon nodded grimly.  
It wasn't a good sign; an injured dragon would usually become ravenous, unless they were in very great pain.

'Is there anything I or Murtagh or Arya could do? It'd cost a good deal of energy, but we could heal anything life-threatening, even if we couldn't do it all at the one time.' Offered Eragon.  
'Glad you asked,' said Jack from next to him, 'is there anything you can do about this bullet wound? The doc said there wasn't anything for it but to take the bullet out and bandage it,' He asked.  
'If you're going to do that, you mind doing it outside? That's something I don't really want to see in the middle of dinner,' said Macintyre pointedly, looking up from his meal, the only one of the company who appeared to be taking more than a cursory glance at his plate.  
'Actually, this is something I want to see; I saw what you did with Saphira's wing today, I want to know how you did it.' Cut in Chenery, leaning across the table.  
Jack shrugged, and gingerly unwrapped his upper left arm, revealing a through-and-through bullet wound, and the surrounding bruising.  
'Ouch,' said Eragon, before tapping into the magic.  
After a moment, he had the charm he'd used on Saphira after her fight with Glaedr, then began reciting it.  
He didn't rely solely on his own energy, using some of Jack's own reserves to knit the muscle and heal the skin.  
The process had Jack grimacing in discomfort, but after a minute it was finished.  
Eragon sagged in his seat.  
'That was probably one of the most incredible things I've ever seen.' Said Chenery seriously.  
Sutton nodded, although Macintyre was looking faintly queasy.  
'Thanks, that'll have me and Jinx in the air again in about three days now.' Said Jack cheerily, then immediately began applying himself to his plate.  
'What about Maximus and Messoria? Their injuries looked about as bad as the claw-wounds Thorn took on his shoulders from that de-Guerre.' Asked Murtagh.  
'Ate well, and fast asleep.' Berkley said. 'And Thorn picked a fine time to learn how to breath fire as well,' he added to Murtagh.  
'It wasn't us who you should be thanking, that'd be Laurence and Temeraire for being so fast in response, as well as Noelfavrel for seeing the bastard coming,' replied Murtagh, glancing up from his own food.  
'Not quick enough,' Laurence said quietly, forestalling the murmur of agreement.  
'Quicker than the rest of us,' Sutton said, draining his glass; from the looks of his cheeks and nose, it wasn't his first. 'They caught us properly flat-footed, damned frogs, and how they managed such damn coordination,-no signal officer or gun is as effective at sending messages as that, and what the devil they were doing to have a patrol there, I would like to know.'  
'The route from Laggan to Dover isn't much of a secret Sutton,' Little said, coming to the table; they dragged chairs about to make room for him at the table.  
'Immortalis is settled and eating, by the by; speaking of which, please give me that chicken here.' He wrenched off a leg with his hands and tore into it hungrily.  
'I also note that the placing of that attack wasn't far from where we rescued Vindicatus, so it could very well have been a spot of revenge for capturing that Petit Chevalier, and as for the coordination of the assault, I'm afraid I know exactly how they did it.' Eragon said.  
'How'd they do it then? 'Cause I'm damned if I know how.' Asked Warren.  
'They had magicians with them, magicians loyal to Galbatorix; the only reason they didn't attack any of you was because they were busy trying to eliminate Murtagh and I, but even so they were obviously exchanging messages via telepathy between the captains of each dragon, the good news is at least two of them are dead. I shot one myself on the Rayé we captured, and there was one on the Chanson-de-Guerre which attacked Thorn, and it wouldn't surprise me if he drowned when Thorn broke the de-Guerre's neck and he fell into the sea.'  
'Well that confirms what Choiseul said then, about magicians spying in Austria then,' said Sutton darkly.  
'But then, the next time they'll just attack the rest of us won't they?' Asked Chenery with an edge in his voice.  
'Not necessarily, Eragon and I are the ones capable of killing them the easiest, so they're still liable to attack us first, but if you're that worried about it, we can easily teach you how to keep them out of your mind, but you might want to teach your crews as well, they can still take control of one of your crew and shoot you using them.' Explained Murtagh, taking a swig of his own wine, then making a face.

After this, the room was quiet as they all focused more on their food, compensating for not having anything since they'd left Middlesbrough.  
'I expect they've been lurking between Felixstowe and Dover, just waiting to get the drop on us,' Little said after a while, wiping his mouth and continuing his earlier thought.  
'By God, if you ever catch me taking Immortalis that way again; overland it is for us from now on, unless we're looking for a fight.'  
'Right you are,' Chenery said in heartfelt agreement.  
'Beats me why you'd want to go flying over open water anyway,' muttered Murtagh.

'Hello Choiseul, pull up a chair.' Chenery said, shuffling over a little more, and the royalist captain joined them.  
'Gentlemen, I am very happy to say that Lily has begun to eat; I have just come from Captain Harcourt,' he said, and raised a glass. 'To their health, may I propose?'  
'Hear, hear,' Sutton said, refilling his own glass; they all joined the toast, and their was a general sigh of relief, but Eragon had to force himself to swallow the wine, which tasted like it was turning to vinegar.  
'Here you all are, then; eating? Good, very good.' Admiral Lenton had come to join them; he was the commander-in-chief of the Channel Division, and thus all those dragons at the Dover covert. 'No, don't be fools, don't get up,' he said impatiently, as Laurence and Choiseul began to rise and the others belatedly followed. 'After the day you've had, for Heaven's sake. Here, pass that bottle over, Sutton. So, you all know Lily is eating? Yes, the surgeons hope she'll be flying short distances in a couple of weeks, and in the meantime you have captured one of their mid-weights, and nicely mauled a couple of their heavy-combat beasts. A toast to your formations, gentlemen, and to Eragon and Murtagh also.'  
Eragon pretended to drink this time; one glass of vinegar was enough for him. He was relieved however, and he felt the knot of tension he hadn't even noticed in his gut unwind now knowing that Lily and the others injured in the skirmish would be alright, and he saw this reflected on Laurence's and to his surprise, Murtagh's face.  
The others seemed to feel much the same way, and conversation grew slowly more fragmented. They were all inclined to nod over their cups.

'I am quite certain the Grand Chevalier was Triumphalis,' Choiseul was telling Admiral Lenton quietly.  
'I have seen him before; he is one of France's most dangerous fighters. He was certainly at the Dijon covert, near the Rhine, when Praecursoris and I left for Austria, and I must represent to you, sir, that it bears out all my worst fears: Bonaparte would not have brought him here if he were not wholly confident of victory against Austria, and I am sure more of the French dragons are on their way to assist Villeneuve.'  
'I was inclined to agree with you before, Captain, now I'm sure of it,' Lenton said. 'But for now, all we can do is hope Mortiferus reaches Nelson before the French dragons reach Villeneuve, and that he can do the job; we cannot spare Excidium if we do not have Lily. Even if we do have a pair of fire-breathers. I would not be surprised if that was the intention behind this strike; it is the clever sort of way that damned Corsican thinks.'  
With this convenient pause in the conversation, Eragon stood and approached the pair.  
'Excuse me for interrupting, Jean-Paul, Admiral,' broke in Eragon, by way of drawing the two men's attention.  
'And who might you be?' Asked Lenton.  
Eragon met the man's gaze, and noted the steel in his eye, and a calm confidence, a confidence not easily ruffled.  
'Eragon Bromsson, Admiral, on Saphira,' replied Eragon.  
'One of the Alageesian's?'  
'It's pronounced "Al-uh-_gay_-zee-uhn, but yes,' answered Eragon.  
Lenton turned back to Choiseul.  
'We'll continue this later, Captain,' he said, a dismissal that the Frenchman didn't choose to object to.  
Lenton turned back to Eragon.  
'If you'll be so kind to follow me Captain, we'll continue this somewhere more private.' With this, he turned to leave, but before he could, Laurence spoke up.

'Have we had any dispatches from the blockade at Cadiz?' He asked. 'Have they seen any action?'  
'Not that I have heard of,' Lenton said. 'Oh, that's right, you're our fellow from the Navy, aren't you? Well, I will be starting those of you with uninjured beasts on patrolling over the Channel fleet anyway while the others recover; you can touch down and hear the news. They'll be damned glad to see you; we haven't been able to spare anyone long enough to bring them the post in a month.'  
'Will you want us tomorrow, then?' Asked Chenery, stifling a yawn not entirely successfully.  
'No, I can spare you a day. See to your dragons, and enjoy the rest while it lasts,' Lenton said with a sharp, braying laugh. 'I'll be having you rousted out of bed at dawn the day after.'

With that, the captains dispersed, except for Scandland, Jack and Clark.  
'If it's all the same to you Admiral, after you've had a word with Eragon, we'd like to speak to you ourselves, involving a request from the Varden regarding our assistance.' Said Clark.  
Lenton frowned.  
'I'll explain in a minute,' cut in Eragon, 'just wait a minute okay?' He asked Clark.  
Clark waved him off, and Eragon followed Lenton after another moment.

* * *

'Well Captain, I received a dispatch regarding you and your companions, as well as Scandland and Rosarias' formation; anything I should know that didn't make it into that missive?' Asked Lenton when Eragon had taken a seat.  
'A couple of things, the most pressing one is that Nasuada has called me away to assist in breaking the siege of Aroughs before winter hits Alagaësia, and she's requested the use of Rosarias' formation also; I've given them a chance to back out if they feel they're not ready and I expect their answers either after this meeting or tomorrow.' Began Eragon.  
'But they'll be returning after the siege is broken?' Asked Lenton.  
Eragon nodded.  
'This is an in extremis situation, and afterward they'll be back to complete the remainder of their training before they go officially, this can just be considered as gaining some experience; they won't be just patrolling after all, they'll be expected to fight at the forefront of the battle, instead of nipping at the flanks.' He explained.  
'I see no reason to deny you liberty to go through with this when orders filter through from the Admiralty, so I'll allow it, anything else I should know?' Lenton asked.  
'As you may or may not have noticed, one of my fellows has become the rider of a Winchester, although said Winchester has acquired several traits like Saphira.'  
'Ah yes, I did notice her and I wondered about the spines, not to mention her size, but what else is she capable of?' Asked Lenton.  
'All indicators say that she'll be able to breath fire in a couple of months time, and besides that she can hover.' Replied Eragon, deciding to omit Galzra's telepathic abilities and ancestral race memory.  
'Let me guess, word got out and her captain has earned the jealousy of every ground crewman, lieutenant and midwingman at Loch Laggan.' Lenton said.  
'More or less, they're mine and Saphira's responsibility to train which means that they spend a good deal of time around our crew as well, they've got no ground crew either which means that Noelfavrel has had to learn how to care for Galzra himself, even though my groundcrewmen have been helping in that regard as well.' Eragon replied.  
'Speaking of your groundcrew,' said Lenton, 'I believe that my daughter has been assigned as your harness master.'  
Eragon nodded imperceptibly, his suspicion confirmed.  
'Theresa?' He asked, more for confirmation than anything else.  
'Yes, she's been working diligently?' Asked Lenton.  
'Her work is exemplary, it's what got her the position in the first place; she's not a bad hand with a sword either,' replied Eragon.  
Lenton nodded slightly.  
'If you would do me a favour Eragon,' began Lenton.  
'What sort of favour?' Asked Eragon, frowning.  
'Teresa is supposed to take over from me as Obversaria's captain after I cut straps and retire, but she's got a fear of heights,-hence why she's on a groundcrew instead of a lieutenant,- I was wondering if you could try and help her get over it, and also if you might give her a day's liberty tomorrow, Obversaria and I haven't seen her in nearly a year.' Elaborated Lenton.  
'I can see no reason to deny you on either point, though I'll tell you now in confidence that I believe she could be a candidate for the egg in our possession.' Eragon replied.  
Lenton raised an eyebrow.  
'How do you suppose that?' He asked.  
'She's diligent at her work, I've already mentioned she's a good fighter, and a point I would call essential is that she has a very abiding respect for dragons, Saphira has never complained about her harness beyond the fact that the manoeuvres hamper her abilities when flying with a crew, and she has consulted with both Saphira and myself on her handy-work on occasion; I believe she would make an excellent rider, and if that doesn't pan out, I would hazard at saying a fine captain.' Replied Eragon.  
Lenton nodded.  
'I find that news more relieving than you could know, you've probably seen what the line of succession can do-'  
'I have.' Replied Eragon bluntly, 'and I'll say this in confidence also: the only reason Rankin isn't dead yet is because he's not worth throwing an alliance away over, although I wouldn't mind seeing Levitas in someone else's hands.'  
Lenton snorted, and leaned back in his chair.  
'Wouldn't we all? Anyway, it's late, and I'll look into your request for leave tomorrow, which is when I assume that a formal request will either leave for the Admiralty, or formal orders will come from them, until then, good night.' He said, standing.  
Eragon stood also, and shook the man's hand before leaving the room.

* * *

'So what's the word?' Asked Clark when he came out to the dining room.  
'Wait until tomorrow, it's been a long day and it can wait until then.' Eragon replied, his thoughts turning to his bed, before he changed his mind and decided to sleep beside Saphira.  
'Well, we decided that seeings as everyone who was a 'maybe' is now a 'yes', on going, that it's a waste leaving Clark and Mac behind, so we're all going with you, and we've had no objections from our crews either,' Jack said. 'We're just waiting for an "okay" from the bigwig sailor-boys, and Lenton.'  
'That's good to hear,' Eragon said, 'well I'm for bed, we'll talk more tomorrow.'

**This chapter was an ass of a thing to write.**

**I won't bore you with the reasons why, so**

**Now, thanks owed:**

**For Story Alerting I'd like to thank: SterlingThoughts and acerbus321.**

**For Favouriting I'd like to thank: SterlingThoughts.**

**For Favourite Authoring I'd like to thank: SterlingThoughts.**

**For Reviewing, I'd like to thank: SterlingThoughts, Hideout Writer, dragonshina and T2238.**

**And an extra special mention to SterlingThoughts for the two alerts and favourites.**

**Well, school starts up again on monday, I'm clear for another two weeks yet in terms of updates, my homework load is supposed to get heavier this semester, and if you haven't yet, have a gander at my new Spyro\40k crossover: 'Guardsman'.**

**And, 'til next time:**

**No One-liners.**


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter XXXIII

A Day Off

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

The next morning when Eragon awoke, leaning against Saphira's side, he reflected that it was the first time he'd done so in nearly four months.  
He closed his eyes and just lay there a while.  
It was easy to imagine that they only travelling somewhere in Alagaësia, instead of in a world where dragons were common, and a war just as dire as the one against Galbatorix was being fought.

He could've lain there all morning until Saphira awoke, but his stomach had other ideas.  
Try as he might, he couldn't get back to his rest-state, due to his growling stomach.  
With a muttered curse he woke Saphira, and emerged blinking into the chill morning air.  
_Sorry about that._ Apologised Eragon.  
Saphira just grunted and drifted off to sleep again, sleeping off the effects of the previous day's exertions.

He met Berkley and Laurence at the table, and after breakfast, went with them to Maximus' clearing.  
The Regal Copper was still eating, a procession of fresh-slaughtered sheep going down his gullet one after another, and he only rumbled a wordless, mouth-full greeting as they came into the clearing.  
Berkley brought out a bottle of the same terrible wine they'd had with dinner the night before, and drank most of it himself, while Laurence sipped at his glass to be polite.  
Eragon avoided having to drink the near-vinegar wine by refusing point blanc, and rubbing the back of his head.  
'Can't handle your drink, ha!' Said Berkley in amusement, causing Eragon to wince slightly.  
He wasn't _really_ hung-over, like he had been the morning of Ajihad's funeral, but his head did feel a bit sensitive, and for politeness's sake he didn't want to off-put Berkley and Laurence by putting an end to the hangover with a spell.

In the meantime, they told over the battle of the previous day, using diagrams scratched in the dirt and pebbles to represent the dragons.  
'It's a good thing we've got Galzra to fly lookout above the formation,-although I'd prefer a dragon with more endurance, like a Greyling,' Berkley said, sitting heavily on a rock. 'It is all our big dragons being young; when the big ones panic in that way, the little ones will have a start even if they know better.'  
Laurence nodded. 'Although I hope this misadventure will have given them some experience in dealing with the fright,' he said. 'In any event, the French can't hope for such ideal conditions often, they'd never have managed it without the cloud cover.'  
Eragon went to add his own comment, but was beaten to speaking first.  
'Gentlemen; are you looking over the plan of yesterday?' Choiseul had been walking past towards the headquarters; he joined them and crouched down beside the diagram. 'I am very sorry to have been away at the beginning.' His coat was dusty and his neckcloth was stained badly with sweat: he looked as though he had not shifted his clothes since yesterday, and a thin tracery of red veins stood out in the whites of his eyes; he rubbed his face and looked down.  
'Have you been up all night?' Laurence asked.  
Choiseul shook his head. 'No, but I took turns with Catherine,-with Harcourt,- to sleep a little, by Lily; she would not rest otherwise.' He shut his eyes in an enormous yawn, and nearly fell over. '_Merci,' _he said, grateful for Laurence's steadying hand, and pushed himself slowly to his feet. 'I will leave you; I must get Catherine some food.'  
'You should get some rest, you look like you're about to drop dead,' said Eragon bluntly, 'Saphira is sleeping off the effects of yesterday; I've nothing better to do so I'll take her something, I may be able to do something for Lily as well to ease the pain, even if I can't heal such a deep wound.' He added.

* * *

Harcourt herself was wide awake, pale with anxiety but steady now, giving orders to her crew and steadily feeding Lily with still steaming chunks of beef from her own hand, a constant stream of encouragement coming from her lips.  
True to his word, Eragon had brought bread and bacon along with him; Harcourt would've taken the sandwich in her bloody hands, Eragon didn't really like to intrude or interrupt, but he managed to coax her away long enough to wash a little and eat while a crewman took her place. Lily kept eating, one golden eye resting on Harcourt for reassurance.

'I'm deeply sorry Saphira and I weren't able to help prevent this Harcourt,' Eragon said at last.  
Harcourt shook her head.  
'You've got nothing to apologise for Eragon, in fact I thank you, and Murtagh as well, that could've been an awful lot worse if it weren't for you two, as well as Maximus and Temeraire,' replied Harcourt.  
Eragon accepted this without comment.  
'Is there anything I can do to help? Lily's injuries are too deep for me to fully heal, but I can help them along, or do something for the pain,' Eragon asked.  
Harcourt shook her head.  
'There is no need at present, I will admit that I find myself wishing that I, the surgeons, or any in the aviators had the healing abilities you do, but there is no need to tire yourself; another attack could come at any time, so save your strength,' she said.  
'I could save Lily weeks of unnecessary pain,' pointed out Eragon.  
Harcourt shook her head slightly.  
'No, it won't do; it's a strange thing, but Lily, as well as the other dragons don't seem to approve of Saphira and Thorn letting you heal the worst of their injuries like that, it may be a point of pride, but they just don't seem to approve of it, much as us captains might,' she explained.  
Eragon cocked his head.  
'It's not all that strange, Saphira has refused my help once before, during our training she developed feelings for Glaedr, the dragon she trained under and when she tried to convince him to be her mate, they ended up fighting, and they dealt each other an injury, when Glaedr returned to the clearing where Oromis and I were waiting, he refused Oromis' help for a time, and when I finally reached Saphira, she did as well,' recounted Eragon. 'I think you're right about it being a point of pride, but…' he shook his head, 'if you change your mind, or manage to convince Lily, just let me know.' He said.

Choiseul came back before Harcourt was quite finished, his neckcloth and coat gone and a servant following with a pot of coffee, strong and hot. 'Monsieur Bromsson, Admiral Lenton and Captain Clark wish to speak with you,' he said, sitting down heavily beside Harcourt. 'I cannot manage to sleep; the coffee has done me well.'  
'Thank you Jean-Paul, if you are not too tired, I would be grateful for your company,' Harcourt said, already drinking her second cup. 'Pray, have no hesitation, Eragon, the Admiral probably doesn't want to be kept waiting. I'm grateful for your coming, as well as your offer.'  
Eragon bowed low to Harcourt, before inclining his head to Choiseul.  
Harcourt was leaning, with no consciousness against Choiseul's shoulder, and he was looking at her with undisguised warmth.  
Eragon couldn't help but feel reluctant in leaving which surprised him, as he knew Harcourt was perfectly capable of looking after herself, and there was always the crew, not to mention Lily,-wounded as she was,- right there.

Eragon hesitated a moment longer, then reluctantly left.

* * *

_Good morning little one._ Said Saphira, finally waking up.  
_Good morning to you as well Saphira, how do you feel?_ Asked Eragon, as he made his way towards the covert headquarters at a reasonable, if leisurely pace.  
_A little sore…but I'm fine, what of Lily and the others? _Saphira asked.  
_Lily will be fine, the surgeons prognosis is she'll be able to fly short distances within three weeks; Harcourt says she'd refuse my help though._ Eragon replied.  
_Even if it would see her well so much faster?_ Asked Saphira in evident disbelief.  
_Even so, and apparently the others disapprove of you and Thorn accepting me and Murtagh healing the worst of your injuries. _Explained Eragon.  
Even over their link, Eragon could feel Saphira's amusement.  
_Their arrogance talking, but enough of that, I can see something troubling you Eragon, something to do with Harcourt?_ Saphira questioned.  
Eragon sent her an image of a nod, then explained as best he could what was troubling him.  
Again, Saphira's amusement was palpable.  
_Ah, Eragon,_ she said, _I think you might be falling for Harcourt.  
__What? No, no, I just don't trust Choiseul, and pity Harcourt; she must be feeling so helpless right now, what with Lily injured like that._ Eragon replied, and to his horror found himself blushing.  
Saphira's amusement became even more palpable.  
_Sure you do, but look at it this way: you have more chance with Harcourt, but if it does work, your time together will be a short one._ She said.  
Eragon sighed.  
_I won't argue with you Saphira, but enough of this, the admiral wants to talk with me, and I think I've taken enough liberty with his time._ He said, and with that sped up, determined to get to the covert headquarters before Saphira could continue pursuing her line of questioning.  
_At least it wouldn't end as badly as it would have with Arya._ Continued Saphira in the same line of conversation as if Eragon hadn't spoken.  
_Saphira!_ Eragon said in exasperation.  
_You can't run away from your feelings Eragon, no more than you can run away from me._ Saphira replied, and Eragon got the impression Saphira was really enjoying herself.  
_I feel sorry for Harcourt, and I don't trust Choiseul, _that is it!_ Romantic feelings don't even enter into my consideration._ Eragon said with finality.  
_So says you, but are you sure about it?_ Saphira said, ignoring his tone.  
_Saphira, I don't think you've noticed yet or not, but Murtagh is developing feelings for Harcourt,-much as he might deny them to himself. And besides, my heart is set on Arya; it always will be._ Eragon said, slowing up drastically as the headquarters came into view.  
Eragon felt Saphira sigh, and shake her head but she didn't pursue the subject any further.  
_I'm going to get something to eat now. _She said.  
_Take your time, we've got the day off._ Eragon replied, before breaking the mental link.

* * *

'You sure took your sweet time,' observed Macintyre when Eragon entered.  
'I wasn't aware there was any urgent business in the offing Captain Macintyre,' replied Eragon coolly.  
'Cut it out,' said Lenton quietly.  
Now that Eragon looked, he saw that Jack, Scandland, Clark, Stern and Grimmer were also in attendance.

'I just got confirmation of what you said last night from the admiralty about your liege lady requesting our assistance; there's just one hitch: they want the lady Arya to stay here as insurance that you'll be back,' Lenton said.  
Eragon felt his jaw tighten.  
'I haven't got the time to argue, however if that is the case see to it that she isn't confined during our absence, if you can admiral,' Eragon replied.  
Lenton gave a snort of laughter.  
'We do have some notion of civility, although I do think this is a bit unnecessary.' He said.  
Eragon nodded.  
'I'm sorry, that was a little tactless,' he said, 'you wouldn't mind if I borrowed Noelfavrel as well would you?' He asked.  
Lenton frowned.  
'No, why?' He asked.

'Since we're so close to a population centre here, I'm hampered in what Saphira and I can teach him; a journey like this will probably be one of the last opportunities I have to teach him adequately for some time.' Eragon said, hoping Lenton would read between the lines.  
He nodded ever so slightly, getting at what Eragon was really driving at.  
'What do we need that kid along for? Bad enough he got one of _our_ dragons, but then she turns out to be something truly special? And he's got no appreciable talent of his own.' Asked Macintyre.

'Hey Max?' said Jack from behind Macintyre.  
'What Blood?' Asked Macintyre, turning around to face the other man.  
Without further preamble, Jack punched Macintyre in the face.  
Macintyre, without another sound, dropped to the floor in a heap, unconscious with a muted _thump_.

'What?' Asked Jack. 'He's turning into a whining little girl, and if someone was going to hit him, it might as well be me, it's in character after all.' He explained to the other people in the room, who were looking at him in stony silence.  
Lenton was the first to speak.  
'Captain Dyer, you haven't changed a bit.' He said wearily, dropping his head into a hand in mock despair.  
'And you wouldn't have me any other way.' Jack retorted with a good natured shrug.  
Clark shrugged.  
'Alright I admit, he had that coming.' He said.  
'It appears that maybe your 'infamy' is well earned,' Eragon observed.

* * *

It didn't take long for the decision to be made that the formation should leave the next day, and confirmation was back from the admiralty within two hours, thanks to the relatively close distance between Dover and London.  
After the meeting, everyone split off to enjoy the rest of the day.  
Admiral Lenton accompanied Eragon back to the clearing where he was set up, to see his daughter, before the pair left.

'I never made the connection,' admitted Gregs when Eragon asked him whether he'd known, 'I mean, sure they share the same last name, but I never gave it any thought; I honestly believed it was just a coincidence.' He said.  
'Don't beat yourself up Jason,' said Teel, 'it's not a fact Lenton's really liked advertising, and I don't like bearing tales, but in case you hadn't noticed, Theresa doesn't really have a head for heights.'  
'Ah, so it's a matter of succession,' said Gregs, nodding.  
'If you'll oblige me you two, don't go spreading it around; and I'll tell you this on the understanding you won't tell anyone else: the admiral has asked me and Saphira to help Theresa get over her fear, I don't think she needs the crew making jokes about it behind her back.' Eragon said.  
Teel and Gregs nodded.  
'Mum's the word sir,' Teel said, pressing a finger to his lips.

A loud explosion sounded from outside the barrack building where the three were talking, and as one they ran out the door to find the crew laughing uproariously at Murray, who was lying on his back, with his hair blown back from his head, clutching his chest with one hand and breathing heavily.  
'Damn-it Kincaid! That was _not funny!_' Roared Murray angrily, climbing shakily to his feet.  
Eragon was relieved to see that aside from a soot blackened face, his groundcrew master was unhurt.

'Oh, I dunno Murray, it looks pretty damn funny from where I'm sitting,' said Gideon, with a death's head grin on his face.  
'You could've killed me!' Roared Murray at Gideon.  
'Aw, grow up Julian, that little charge didn't have enough powder to leave a mark, let alone kill you; if I had've thought it would've killed you I never would've done it. As it is though, it's bloody hilarious!'

'What happened?' Asked Eragon sternly.  
'No harm done boss-man, I just planted a small firecracker in Julian's gear; just a bit of harmless fun.' Said Gideon, as usual, the earnestness of his tone convinced Eragon, even though he still wouldn't meet his eye.  
Eragon rubbed his temples.  
'Look Gideon, you might think it's a bit of fun, but I really don't think it's a good idea to antagonise your superiors,' Eragon said.  
'Since when was Julian superior to me in any way?' Asked Gideon, raising an eyebrow.  
'Don't be glib Gideon, it doesn't suit you, now apologise to Murray, and I don't want hear another word of this from either of you, nor see another prank like that.' Replied Eragon firmly.  
Gideon's smile faded.  
'Yes sir.' He said emotionlessly.  
Eragon could tell he was furious though.

Gideon turned to Murray, and fixed his gaze somewhere around the middle of the younger man's eyebrows, the closest he usually came to looking someone in the eye.  
'I'm sorry Julian,' said Gideon in the same emotionless tone, before storming off, every line rigid with fury.  
Eragon inadvertently caught snatches of his thoughts.  
Many of them contained profanity Eragon had never heard Gideon give voice to, as well as berating him and Murray for being 'overly serious,' and 'ramrod straight,' with 'no sense of humour.'  
'That was very well handled Eragon.' Observed Teel approvingly.  
'I'm not so sure,' replied Eragon, 'Gideon's furious, even if he didn't outright show it.'  
'I don't know Skipper, do we really have to keep Kincaid? He's so damn arrogant, and that was just _evil_.' Asked Murray, still very badly shaken up.  
'He's staying on Murray; I'll admit that while that could've been an awful lot worse, Gideon knows what he's doing, and he's better than most of the other gunners of seen on other crews, and I won't judge him the way I'd judge another man; there's just something about him that's different…his social awkwardness has something to do with it, along with his reluctance to look people in the eye, add to that that he's got potent telepathic ability, and I for one believe that he's worth having around, and he's likeable enough if you don't annoy him.' Eragon replied.

'But that really was crossing a line though,' Murray said, shaking his head.  
'I honestly believe Gideon only meant to play a joke, and I must say he was a lot more inventive about it than some of the others I've seen pulled here.'  
Murray shook his head, then shrugged.  
'Whatever you say Skipper,' he said resignedly.

* * *

Saphira gnawed meditatively on the haunch of the cow she'd taken.  
In the first time she'd had in nearly four months to stop and think, so far she'd found that she was being unfairly marginalised, treated like an animal no more intelligent than the unfortunate cow she was chewing on, and,-most galling of all,- being told how she should fly!  
Saphira silently thanked Nasuada for calling them back to break the siege at Aroughs; any more of the circus she was currently involved in and she was liable to start breaking strictures and causing a clamour among this world's population of round-ear-two-legs.  
As for said round-ear-two-legs, they seemed even more obsessed with dithering than the Varden, dwarves and elves combined.

She glanced up at the sound of wings as she cracked the cow's femur in her jaws, and was in time to see Thorn land with his own kill.  
Saphira growled a terse greeting, before swallowing the cracked femur.

_How do you feel?_ Asked Thorn, dipping his head in acknowledgement to Saphira's greeting.  
_Frustrated._ Replied Saphira, not truly interested in talking with Thorn; while she agreed with Eragon that the Chanson-de-Guerre had died well, and wasn't truly Thorn's fault as he hadn't sought out that fight, she wasn't so quick to forgive Glaedr's imprisonment as Eragon was to set aside Oromis'-death for the moment.  
Thorn seemed to perceive some of the reasoning behind this.  
_And would you have done anything differently in my stead if the hated-traitor-mad-tyrant-kin-slayer had been threatening your rider?_ Asked Thorn.

Saphira's eyes flashed as she met Thorn's gaze.  
_Do not go there Thorn, lest you wish for me to carve Glaedr's name into your flesh with my claws, necessary or not, you and Murtagh could've saved so much suffering and pain by dying selflessly than living to fulfil his selfish vengeance on the world._ She said warningly. _You should have waited; if you had just waited until after Galbatorix's defeat, you could have been joined with Murtagh without having to endure servitude to the traitor, instead your impatience has led you down a path of blood and violence and darkness._

Thorn gave Saphira a mournful look.  
_Not all of us have your virtues Saphira; I did not come here to argue with you regarding my crimes, I do not sleep comfortably with it as is, in my defence, I never wanted to fight your master that was our oaths that forced us to that, I meant after yesterday's battle. _He replied.

Saphira considered continuing chastising the younger male, then thought better of it.  
No matter his sins, his regret was genuine, she only had to take a peak into his mind to see that, and the fact he effected the 'noble warrior' attitude to try and hide the shame of his enslavement.  
_Sore, and the strictures of these 'aviators' in general grate on me, any more of this and I swear I will land in the middle of a town just to break the monotony, and the worst of it is these humans have the temerity to tell us how to _fly_._ Maybe it wasn't the most dignified thing for a dragoness to complain about something so petty, but Saphira felt she needed to vent to someone, even if it_ was _the dragon who'd killed her former master.

_Do you feel…anything…about that dragon your rider and crew captured?_ Asked Thorn hesitantly.  
Saphira got the impression he wanted someone to get advice from, and considering that the lunarian in his and Murtagh's possession probably didn't want anything to do with them, and the British dragons wouldn't understand, and Galzra being too young to ask advice of, Thorn was turning to her for advice.  
Saphira was silent a while.  
_He attacked us, and it was either capture him or kill him. I can sleep better knowing that he and his partner and crew are imprisoned and not dead, so while I do feel some sympathy for them, I do not feel ashamed of what needed to be done._ She said eventually. _I will not say I approve of your killing your foe, but it was necessary, Eragon,-though he tries not to show it,- isn't comfortable with the lives he has taken, even though he knows it is necessary to end the lives f those who stand between us and Galbatorix's downfall, regardless if it is willingly or not._ She added.

Thorn dipped his head in acknowledgement as he bit off his cow's head.  
_And what do you think of the dragons in this 'formation'?_ Asked Thorn.  
Saphira reflected that the advantage and disadvantage of mental conversation was that the person you were talking with could,-for the most part,-see the intent behind a question, meaning that unless you were exceptionally skilled, it wasn't the wisest idea to try and be general about someone of the opposite sex you admired.  
_One and all they're dedicated fighters, though singly they'd be no match for either of us; as for what I think of them personally… they've all but forgotten what it is to be skulblaka, though individually they're all nice enough. The only exemption for forgetting what he is would be Jinx. As for what you're really driving at: I'm sure Lily will be fine, as for whether she'd be interested in you, it really isn't my place to ask or say, due to the circumstances I find it hard to see you in a romantic light, even though you do have your charms._ She replied, letting her amusement at Thorn's shy query show.  
Thorn huffed, offended.  
_And whom do you have feelings for then? That great hulking brute Maximus?_ He asked, not-so-subtly trying to needle Saphira.  
Not the wisest idea he'd ever had, as Saphira proved when she spat a ribbon of flame, which singed his nose, causing him to yelp.  
_No. I do not fancy Maximus, nor Temeraire or any of the other dragons we have met here._ Replied Saphira. _If circumstances were different, there's a good chance I would have fallen for you by now, though as things stand it will take me a good while to forgive you._ She replied, then stood.  
She'd eaten her fill and had no further reason to stay.  
_Keep safe your heart Thorn, work towards redeeming your sins. _She said, then bunched her muscles and sprang into the air. _And maybe in a year or two I'll forgive you enough to like you as a potential mate.  
_Thorn sighed despondently, and cursed Galbatorix to the darkest depths of hell, wishing, not for the first time that he'd been able to resist the lure of being joined with his rider for just a few more months.

**I'll leave this here.**

**Mainly because I've dealt with all my main characters at this point, had some fun with the back-up characters, set stuff up for the next couple of chapters, and can't think of how else to proceed, without going on for ages about back up characters.**

**So, despite my previous beliefs, I am capable of using the writing technique 'Murder your darlings.'**

**Essentially if you really, really like something clever and nice you've done with a story, delete it without mercy because it's probably not going to do the story much good.**

**It's from the thirties, and although I find it completely stupid,-mainly because if I don't like something I won't do it unless I feel it HAS to be done,- it still has it's uses.**

**Like giving me good reason NOT to waste ten pages on background characters.**

**Now that the editorial is over, the people I owe gratitude, thanks and virtual bouquets of flowers to are as follows:**

**For reviewing: Hideout Writer, and NicoleBuddy twice.**


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter XXXIV

A Dish Served Cold

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

The morning after, Eragon was up before dawn, and was met by Arya, Murtagh, Thorn, Jack, Jinx and their crew, along with his own.  
Noelfavrel wasn't far behind in waking, though he like Eragon was content to let Galzra have the extra time to sleep.  
Gradually, the other captains, their dragons and crews filtered into the clearing.  
As the sun rose, Arya invoked the scrying spell on a sheet of water she'd frozen, and Murtagh cast the Charm of Crossing.

On the other side of the portal, Nasuada waited, along with her Nighthawks.  
As Eragon awoke Saphira, a coarse bellow caught his attention, and he whipped around in time to see one of Nasuada's dwarven guards hurl his axe at Murtagh.  
The dwarf was immediately set upon by the two human hawks, but the damage was done as the axe caught Murtagh in the chest, and he fell back gasping in pain, releasing the spell into the bargain, which was just as well, considering how Thorn attempted to charge through the portal, only ending up shattering the ice.

Eragon rushed over, as Murtagh clutched vainly at the axe head in his chest.  
'Eragon…' he said weakly, his voice betraying his agony.  
'Sweet Christ, I thought Riders were supposed to be revered in your world,' said Macintyre, aghast.  
'They are, the dwarves just hate Murtagh for killing their king at the Battle of the Burning Plains,' explained Arya gravely.  
Saphira was awake by now, and with the help of Mortarius and Rosarias was holding Thorn down.

Suddenly an idea came to Eragon.  
'Murtagh, you know I'm sworn to avenge king Hrothgar, correct?' Asked Eragon urgently, Murtagh's vitality was still burning bright to Eragon's second sight, mainly due to the fact the axe hadn't bitten too deep, slowed as it had been by Murtagh's chain mail hauberk.  
'Yes…what difference does it make?' Asked Murtagh through clenched teeth.  
Eragon quickly outlined his plan.  
'Damn it Eragon, I don't like this one bit.' Said Murtagh, the axe was stemming the blood flow, and hadn't severed anything major, embedded in his ribcage as it was.  
'Arya?' Asked Eragon, motioning to the ice shards that were the remnants of the portal.  
Arya nodded and reformed them.  
'Now, can you please scry Orik for me?' He asked levelly.  
Arya's eyes widened fractionally as she realised what Eragon was about to do.  
_I keep my oaths and repay my debts Arya, but I do show mercy as well._ Said Eragon, briefly outlining his plan.  
She nodded briefly.

'What are you doing?' Asked Scandland in confusion.  
'Fulfilling an oath to avenge the death of the king of the dwarves, an oath held sacred by the dwarves, made to my adoptive brother.' Replied Eragon.  
Thorn was struggling furiously to be free now, desperate to stop Eragon from his current course of action.  
_Saphira, don't let Thorn go, the sooner my oath is out of the way, the sooner I won't have it plaguing me, and the sooner the last real barrier between me being able to forgive Murtagh is removed the better in the current state of things._ He said, showing her his plan.

'Eragon?' Asked Orik's rough voice from behind him.  
With a motion, Eragon motioned for Vanir to take charge of Murtagh.  
The young elf's face was impassive, but there was a suggestion of vindictive approval in his eyes.  
'Orik, I've asked you here to bear witness to the fulfilling of my oath to you upon every stone in Alagaësia to avenge king Hrothgar.' Said Eragon stonily.  
Orik nodded slowly, he was upon the throne beneath Tronjheim, and Eragon heard startled whispering out of view from the mirror.  
'Very well, but I will see you take it in person, and not via a spell Eragon, if you will?' Asked Orik, standing from the throne.

Eragon dipped his head and recited the canticle of crossing, in conjunction with one of Orik's spellweavers.  
'There, you can come through the mirror now and observe personally.' Said Eragon.  
Orik nodded, and after thrusting an arm through with a startled grunt, obviously to validate Eragon's claim, Orik clambered through the mirror on his side.  
He ignored the curious stares, and laced his fingers around Volund's head-the ancient mace and Orik's bearing making him appear as immovable as a mountain.  
'You've already put an axe in his chest?' Asked Orik emotionlessly, ignoring the confused looks passing around the crews and captains.

They knew of course that tension existed between Eragon and Murtagh, but this oath of vengeance was news to them, and only Clark, Jack and some of the more classically trained crewmen had an idea of what this vengeance would entail.  
These ones looked grim.

'No, that was the work of one of your subjects when Murtagh cast the Charm when we were heading for Fienster, but that is irrelevant at present, Arya?' Asked Eragon grimly, and the elf said two words in the ancient language:  
'Reisa. Malthinae.' She said, casting the two spells in succession.

Thorn was bellowing in distress now, but Saphira was the stronger, and held him fast.

Eragon slowly drew Zar'roc from Murtagh's side.  
'Now, pay witness to the avenging of Hrothgar, King under the mountain, and Grimstborith of Dûrgrimst Ingeitum, on Murtagh Morzansson, and know that Eragon Shadeslayer, son of Brom keeps the oaths he makes, no matter how difficult they may be.' Proclaimed Eragon, pulling the axe free from Murtagh's chest.

Then, without giving himself a chance to hesitate, or for anyone to stop him, Eragon stabbed Murtagh through the heart with Zar'roc.  
Murtagh convulsed, and blood began pooling around the blade of the sword.

Thorn howled in mortal anguish, and thrashed against Saphira's restraint, only for Rosarias to rejoin her.

The aviators were deathly still, whether from horror or disbelief.  
Eragon felt his gorge rising, but swallowed it back.

'Would you agree with me Orik that that is a mortal wound and satisfactory vengeance?' Asked Eragon quickly.  
'Aye, it is, I am satisfied that vengeance is done.' Orik said stonily nodding.  
Eragon pulled Zar'roc's bloodied point from Murtagh's chest.

Murtagh's vital force was rapidly fading.

'Now, pay witness that as a Dragon Rider of Alagaësia, I am not without mercy, and I grant Murtagh the gift of redemption.' Eragon said.  
He expected Orik to object, but surprisingly, the dwarf just arched an eyebrow as Eragon pulled the glove from his right hand, revealing the gedwëy Ignasia, placing it over Murtagh's heart and saying firmly:  
'Waìse heill,' tapping into Saphira's and Thorn's vitality, as well as Vanir's and Arya's.

Surprisingly, Vanir made no move to stop Eragon either.  
The spell took a massive amount of energy, severely draining the combined strength of everyone Eragon was siphoning strength from, as well as his own.  
If any single one of them with the possible exemption of Thorn had attempted the healing they would've died.

As it was, they were all left gasping, and Eragon staggered and swayed, dropping Zar'roc in the process, only to be caught by Gregs and Grimmer.  
As for all the British watching, they beheld something that none of them could call short of a miracle:

The stab wound, which was clearly visible, along with the axe wound, were slowly closing, crushed bones returning to their previous state, the muscle visible through the awful stab wound knitting back together and spilt blood being sucked back into Murtagh's body.  
Then the skin closed over on the axe wound leaving it flawless, but the stab wound left a nasty puckered scar as a memento, similar to the one on Murtagh's back.

'By that alone Eragon, you show that you are wise; Murtagh,' added Orik sharply, looking at the Red Rider, who would've fallen by now but for Arya maintaining the 'reisa' spell, 'my quarrel with you is over, and I will see to it that my testimony of this vengeance is heard, I cannot vouch for your safety should you enter mine realm, but should you redeem yourself in the crucible of battle, then maybe sometime in the future you can pass under the shadows of the Beor Mountains without fear.' He said.

With that, he passed back through the ice-mirror.  
No one spoke for a long moment after Arya terminated the scrying spell.  
Eragon turned back to the assembled aviators and dragons.  
'I'm sorry you had to see that.' He said quietly.

In the background, Murtagh was attempting to calm Thorn down, though Thorn was looking murderously at Eragon, and Saphira was glaring at Thorn, _daring_ him to try and harm Eragon.

Jack was the first to reply.  
'Remind me never to fuck you over,' he said, sounding slightly disturbed.  
'I don't know whether to be disgusted or awed.' admitted Gregs. 'Blood feuds are nothing new here, but I've never seen someone do that so coldly.'  
There was a general chorus of 'aye', among the crews, except for some of the younger cadets and runners who hadn't quite grasped what had happened.  
Eragon shook his head.  
'What's in the past is done,' he said firmly, picking up Zar'roc and offering the sword to Murtagh, 'I take neither pleasure in it, nor pain; it was necessary.'  
Much to Eragon's surprise, Vanir rose stiffly and approached Murtagh, looking the Red Rider in the eye.  
'On behalf of my people, I am satisfied that vengeance for the deaths of the Mourning Sage and Glaedr is done.' He said equally as stiff as his movements.

Murtagh nodded slowly as he sheathed Zar'roc, though it was still wet with his own blood.  
Arya sighed wearily.  
'Enough of this, you should make ready to be off.' She said, already having recast the scrying spell back to the Varden.

'What happened? Was anyone hurt?' Asked Nasuada in concern.  
'Only me Nasuada, Eragon took his vengeance for Hrothgar and his former master, and before I cast the Charm of Crossing, do you mind removing anyone _else_ who feels like hacking off a pound of my flesh from the area?' Asked Murtagh tersely.

'Narhiem has ordered all his folk from the area, though from what I gather he's given the culprit a barrel of ale for that throw,' replied Nasuada dryly, also ignoring the curious looks of the assembled aviators.  
The only other Varden getting as many curious stares were the urgals and the elven spell casters lurking in the background.

Murtagh went to cast the spell, then hesitated.  
'What about anyone else who might have reason to kill me?' He asked suspiciously. 'One near-death experience is enough for one day.'

'Oh yes, I'm going to order everyone in the Varden out of the city, and give Galbatorix's army a free shot at killing as many of us as possible? Not with at least eight dragons ten leagues north of us.' She replied, crossing her arms.  
Murtagh hesitated again, backed away until he was somewhat safe behind Thorn's foreleg, _then_ invoked the Charm.

'About time, come on through.' Nasuada said, standing back from the portal to allow the formation and attached personnel to enter Alagaësia.

**There.**

**That's ONE of the big **_**Inheritance**_** questions spitted, flamed and booted off a cliff, and Murtagh got paid back for the blood on his hands.**

**Loose end trimmed.**

**Also, I realise that a lot of you are thinking 'He can't do that! Murtagh was dead!' WRONG! Murtagh was DYING when Eragon cast the spell, so no resurrection involved, meaning whilst the spell cost a lot of energy, it didn't break the 'bringing back the dead you die,' rule.**

**Now, thanks and flowers owed this time around:**

**For Reviewing, I'd like to thank Hideout Writer and T2238.**

**For Favouriting, I'd like to thank 4QuidditchIRideMyDragon.**

**On another note, for those of you who've got me on Author alert, you may have noticed my 40k\Spyro crossover _Guardsman_.**

**Due to the fact I've been putting a little bit of effort into making it a decent length, if nowhere near finished, it might be a bit tight to get chapter 36 of this story up on schedule, particularly with school as well.  
This is not me giving up, this is me giving warning in advance that updates might be about to slow down drastically.**

**I'm not giving up this close to finishing what could be called a story in it's own right...**

**Incidentally, after I've finished what would canonically be _Temeraire\HMD_ does anyone object to my calling this complete and continung it in another crossover?**

**Purely for motivation reasons, plus I reckon a story with a hundred+ chapters would be extremely daunting...**

**Still, let me know in your review, and the first of you to do so will be my first 100th reviewer as well!**

**'til next time:**

**No One-liners.**


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter XXXV

First Impressions

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

The formation's worth of aviators were as much stared at as staring after they'd come through the portal, and the dragons more so, none of them, barring Jinx Galzra and Saphira had ever been in a city before.  
The captains and lieutenants of the formation stepped forward after Eragon had done with the formal pleasantries associated with his return and introduced themselves.  
'A pleasure to meet you all, if circumstances allowed your coming would be cause for celebration, but as things stand there's not a moment to lose, the indicators are good that it will begin getting colder in roughly a week's time and it'll start snowing three weeks later,' Nasuada explained, to the assembled captains. 'Ideally we want to have the force sent to Aroughs back here by then, though the reality is that it's more practical just to take the city and let Jörmungand's force winter there and march as soon as conditions permit.'  
Clark nodded.  
'Assuming that we won't have to worry about an infantry column coming along with us, I'm reasonably confident we could make this city in good time,' he said, 'you wouldn't be able to show us where it is in relation to Fienster on a map would you my lady?' He asked.  
Nasuada nodded sharply.  
'We can work the logistics out at the keep, in the meantime so long as your crews don't go causing problems they may look around the city as they please, this could end up taking a while if the member's of King Orrin's court get wind of this,' she replied.  
The captains all turned to their lieutenants, who promptly nodded and went back to their crews before relaying the development.

Eragon privately hoped that King Orrin's courtiers were all otherwise engaged.  
_I'm going hunting, it's been too long since I last had challenging prey to test my skills against._ Saphira said.  
'My lady, what can we do about food for our dragons?' Asked Macintyre.  
Nasuada looked in confusion at the young captain.  
'Game has gotten wary in the past couple of weeks, and the Varden's hunters have been forced to go further and further afield to find any, though the animals in these parts usually go down to the Jiet river to drink, your dragons are reasonably sure of a kill there.' She replied.  
'No, that's not-' Began Macintyre in an attempt to ellaborate.  
'Your dragons will be expected to hunt for themselves among the deer and other game that lives close by, allowance for the _occasional_ cow or sheep is made by the Varden's quartermasters, but there are no feeding grounds here like in England.' Eragon replied, speaking to all the captains. 'I can ask Saphira to show them where game is at the minute, but while with the Varden, whether they eat or not will mainly be down to their own ability to hunt.' He added.  
Jack was the first one to reply.  
'If you'll give me a moment Lady Nasuada, I'd best have a word with Jinx about this,' he said.  
'Take an hour, the rest of you as well.' Nasuada replied, speaking to the other captains. 'I'll see to it an area is set aside for the use of your dragons and crew where no-one will disturb you, and it should be ready by the time we've worked out the logistics getting you all to Fienster will involve.' She added.  
A general murmur of 'yes my lady', went up and the captains dispersed.  
_Saphira, you wouldn't mind showing the others where there's good hunting would you?_ Asked Eragon.  
_So long as they follow my lead and don't scare off the game then yes. Otherwise they can go hungry._ She replied.  
'Go on Eragon, I'm sure there are things you wish to attend to as well,' said Nasuada.  
Eragon inclined his head and headed over to where his crew waited by Saphira.

* * *

After laying out the ground rules to his crew, Eragon let them disperse to their own devices, though that mainly meant staying around that area until Nasuada's messenger relayed that a market square had been turned over to their use, after which the dragons took off, following Saphira's lead to the designated square, after which everything was unloaded from the dragons' belly rigging so they could hunt without being hindered.  
On Eragon's advice, Clark, Macintyre, Grimmer and Scandland had their crews remove their respective dragon's harness to save on the cleaning up later.  
Then the whole eight of them were away in a rush of wings, before wheeling about to follow Saphira south towards the river.  
Eragon noted the anxious looks on Scandland's and Grimmer's faces.  
'Don't worry, even if they are attacked, it won't be so easy to board them, and they know how to look after themselves; they'll be fine.' Eragon reassured them, then gave a reluctant sigh.  
'Come on, we'd best head for the keep, the sooner we're there, the less chance we'll end up walking into the arms of King Orrin's court, then we'd be stuck exchanging civility until Saphira comes back,' Eragon said, gesturing for the captains to follow.

* * *

Privately, Eragon heaved a sigh of relief as they entered the keep to find only Nasuada and King Orrin present, along with the Nighthawks and Eragon's bodyguards standing at a discreet distance.  
The formalities were over quickly, and it was somewhat amusing for Eragon to watch as the captains and King Orrin tried to figure out just who was the social upper.  
Both parties were used to considering the other as above their own position to an extent.

After some discussion, juggling with supply, and exchanging of information, it was finally settled on that the formation would proceed directly to Aroughs, taking what provisions were convenient to bolster whatever dwindling stocks Jörmundr still had.  
More crucially, it was decided the remainder of Eragon's guards would stay behind,-a precaution against potential exploitation of weakness by the French.  
These minute details were shadowed into insignificance however, when Saphira made an announcement through Eragon when she returned from hunting.

'_I feel I should tell you now:'_ She said, Eragon earning many startled looks from the British captains as he spoke in Saphira's voice. '_I will fly in this with Eragon as Shur'tugal, not as the dragon of an aviator captain, our crew can either stay behind or fly along with one of the others, otherwise I refuse to fly on this errand, nor can you naysay me or punish me, for I never swore oaths of fealty to the Varden or the British; and should you choose to try and coerce me through Eragon, I will simply abduct him and fly into the wilds, and leave you all to fight without us._ She declared, and Eragon was forced to repeat every word of her speech, which she'd obviously prepared.  
'What the hell was that?' Asked Grimmer, obviously slightly disturbed.  
'That,' said Eragon, 'was Saphira using me as her mouthpiece; and don't go asking me to try and make me change her mind my lady, you know as well as I she's not going to.' Eragon said to Nasuada, holding his hands up in surrender.  
'I know that Eragon,' replied Nasuada wearily, 'I'm afraid that the rest of you will have to see to Eragon's crew if they still wish to be along, when Saphira makes up her mind about something, there's little any of us can do to sway her otherwise.' Nasuada told the British captains.  
'So if she decided to eat you all…?' Began Macintyre.  
'She'd be perfectly capable of doing it.' Finished Nasuada.  
'_But I won't; I've tasted enough of human flesh in battle to know that I'd only go to those measures if death was the alternative. You taste as bad as you smell.'_ Eragon felt the tips of his ears go red as Saphira once again forced him to say this.  
'For once I don't envy the bond you and Saphira share,' commented Sturn with a smirk.  
'It can be rather annoying having to do that.' Admitted Eragon, mortally embarrassed as he felt his blush deepen.  
'Well, I guess that settles it, it'll be roughly three days flight to the city, and provided the mere sight of us breaks morale in the defenders we should be back within a week.' Clark said, leaning on the map table they were gathered around.  
'Best case scenario, I'm more inclined to think that we'll have to bomb the walls before they surrender.' Jack said pessimistically.  
'If you do intend on using those bombs of yours, I forbid their use on the housing or any non-military target; I've seen what they can do, and I will not sanction their use on anything but hard targets.' Nasuada said firmly.  
'We'll keep that in mind, my lady.' Promised Scandland. 'Now, if that is all, we'd best get back to our crews before they go getting into trouble, I trust Morris to keep my crew in line, but some of the midwingmen of mine…not to mention Macintyre's, have a penchant for getting in trouble when nobody's watching.' She added.  
'The same is true for any group of soldiers.' Nasuada said. 'Either way, I wish you the best of luck, the affairs of running an army call for now, but I will come and see you all tomorrow before you go.' She promised.  
With a bow, Eragon exited the keep, before the aviators did the same.

**Screw it.**

**I can't keep this chapter going, and I can always come back and add more some other time.**

**I won't apologise for the short chapter, I don't particularly want to deal with the politics revolving around the British aviators as much as continue on with the more action oriented side, particularly as I've got a canonically fun piece coming up on the **_**Temeraire**_** side of the fence.**

**I was thinking Choiseul vs. Murtagh…**

**However, due to being distracted by my original fiction, which is FINALLY coming together and out of the planning\idea stage, chapter 36 is currently up in the air.**

**I know exactly where this story is going, but it's the 'getting there' that's currently giving me hell.**

**Along with writing a first draft of an original fiction...**

**Enough of that now, I've got thanks and congratulations to give now:**

**So, for Favouriting, I'd like to thank Aestholus.**

**I'd also like to congratulate Hideout Writer on being my first ever one hundredth reviewer.**

**As for thanks on reviews in general, I'd like to thank: t2238, Sea Fire, and Sea Fire a second time.**

**so, 'til next time,-which will hopefully be next week...-**

**No One-liners.**


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter XXXVI

The Fleet Off Brest

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

Murtagh grimaced as his fingers probed the scar that Zar'roc had left.  
That was the second wound he'd been dealt by the sword:  
The first by his own father, and now this one by his half-brother.  
_I'll kill him when he gets back._ Said Thorn, not for the first time since Eragon had departed. _I don't care what Saphira would think, I'll kill Eragon for what he did to you.  
__He could have let me die._ Pointed out Murtagh.  
He'd already had to explain why he'd been covered in blood to Mcbridey, and then to admiral Lenton, and both of them had felt that Eragon should suffer some sanction for his actions.  
'Oh he will, but this is between him and me.' Said Murtagh, in truth he had no wish to escalate the tensions between them, and after seeing through Thorn's eyes Orik's judgement, he was conscious that Eragon felt exactly the same way.

'Ho, Murtagh!' Murtagh looked up to see Gringlok stride into the clearing, a pair of tankards in one hand, the other on the head of his axe like a walking stick, and a keg at his side.  
'What are you here for?' Asked Murtagh, frowning in confusion.  
The dwarf grinned broadly.  
'Now that vengeance 'as been done on you, I thought I might offer you a drink in the spirit of friendship, we're all brothers in arms 'ere, us Alagaësians, even if we wouldn't 'ave chosen to be; still, fate's a funny bitch at times and there's no point in dwelling on past wrongs,' said Gringlok, handing Murtagh one of the tankards, then filling the both of them. 'To the future, eh?' Said Gringlok.  
Murtagh hesitated.  
Gringlok was in an uncharacteristically cheery mood, possibly because with Eragon and Rosarias' formation present in Fienster he and Ornthrond had the night off from keeping the Fleur de Nuit still in residence in the Empire camp honest.  
And, the offer was obviously genuine, even if it was in rather bad taste.  
'To the future it is,' said Murtagh, clanking his tankard against Gringlok's, before draining it.

* * *

When Thorn's crew dragged themselves out of bed,-many of them hung-over from the travails of the previous day,- Murtagh's mood had some what improved, along with his outlook on life.  
It picked up even more when they were in the air, as with the absence of so many of the formation,-either due to injury or being called elsewhere,- Thorn was free to fly to as close to his full potential as the harness would allow.  
'All things considered, Thorn's in a good mood.' Commented Mcbridey, sounding surprised.  
'I am as well; with Eragon's vengeance out of the way we've got a lot less to worry about.' Said Murtagh in something approaching good cheer.

Signals flashed out from Temeraire's back, which Murtagh interpreted as Laurence wanting to know whether he'd be following Temeraire, Nitidus and Dulcia to the fleet, following Excidium's formation on patrol, or flying solo.  
'Swole, signal back we'll follow them;' Murtagh ordered briskly.  
Excidium's formation didn't need them, and Murtagh didn't fancy flying solo and being ambushed by a vengeful old adversary, the Grand Chevalier chief among them.

* * *

Murtagh and Thorn looked on with something akin to distaste as rafts were lashed together to form a platform for the dragons to land on while the post was delivered.

Ever since the week long journey on the transport to England shortly after leaving Madeira, Murtagh had held a deep loathing for sailing 'd spent nearly the whole journey in some form of seasickness-related discomfort, and he was convinced he could happily live the rest of his infinitely extended lifespan without ever having to set foot on a ship again.

Evidently Lady Luck thought he'd had too much good fortune in the past four months and was using the day to balance the accounts.

After a pass over the fleet, the platforms were ready, and having landed with care not to upset the raft's balance, Thorn promptly settled himself as Murtagh slid down his foreleg.  
Laurence was already off, having seen Temeraire settled, apparently from what he could gather from the crew's surface thoughts to speak with the Admiral.  
Thus set adrift, Murtagh helped unload the post along with the rest of the crews, before taking to pacing.

He felt restless and ill at ease like he was being watched; a notion that had nothing to do with the curious stares of idle sailors over his customary plate-mail armour and longbow, but rather one he associated more with being scryed.  
_Impossible, I'm warded against scrying._ Murtagh assured himself briskly.

'We should've followed Excidium's formation.' Mcbridey said gloomily.  
'For once I agree with you, we're just sitting here waiting 'til Laurence is done handing over dispatches and hearing the news; we're rather superfluous here.' Murtagh agreed tersely.  
Thorn's head came up and he cocked it to the side in an expression of interest, before letting it sink again.  
_What is it?_ Asked Murtagh concerned.  
_This might get interesting._ Thorn replied cryptically.

A few minutes later, and Murtagh found out what Thorn meant, as a lieutenant from the _Hibernia_ arrived bearing an invitation to dine with the Admiral.  
Murtagh groaned internally, and resisted the urge to massage his temples.  
_Thorn, please tell me you want to go fishing or something._ Murtagh asked despairingly.  
_I ate well enough this morning, I'll be fine until we return; go on though, _you_ need a midday meal though._ Thorn replied, his vermillion eyes already closed as he prepared to dose in the sun.

Murtagh cursed quietly, knowing there was no adequate reason for him to stay behind.  
The crews were inclined to relax and enjoy the midwinter sun, Thorn required no management on his part.  
'The privileges of rank, eh, captain?' Asked Mcbridey with a smirk.  
'Just shoot me now and save me the torture.' Replied Murtagh acidly, doing his level best not to look as reluctant and despairing as he felt at the prospect at having to engage in polite small talk with a bunch of superstitious ninnies who wouldn't know real power if it blew their ship out from under them.

**My skills are super rusty at the moment.**

**This is more to get a feel for Murtagh's pessimistic, fatalist outlook on the world and prove that I'm not dead.**

**Looks like any story advancement is going to be in a time-skip during the Sack of Aroughs.**

**So, I'll apologise for the filler chapter, and hope that I can do something a little more creative with my next chapter.**

**It's kind of late over here right now, so I probably shouldn't be writing for fear of bad quality…**

**Thanks to everyone for your patience.**

**I am sincerely sorry for my extended absence.**

**First off, my laptop caught a virus, and it was a drama straight from**_** Home and Away**_** to get it back in it's entirety. (long story, it'd take another six pages to explain. Suffice to say that I never knew a charger could cause so much grief.)**

**Secondly, I've been on a snow trip courtesy of my school to beautiful Mt. Hotham where I learned to snowboard, and managed several spectacular stacks.**

**And lastly, I've come down with Writer's Block and a case of Original Fiction fever. (I.e. I'm finally making progress with it.)**

**So, without further ado, I'd like to thank the following people:**

**For Story alerting: AlienWonton JAtkins.**

**For Favouriting: SapphireUnicorn, FANFIC HUNTER, Jatkins, Forsaken By All, and selra.**

**For Reviewing: RahXephon, Hideout Writer, JAtkins and A shade of grey91.**

**For Author Alerting: wyvern the forsworn .**

**For Favourite Authoring: JAtkins.**

**Well, I guess my estimate was too optimistic, but that's life I guess.**

'**til next time:**

**No One-liners.**


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter XXXVII

To Aroughs

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

Dawn came bright and chill, and saw a sight Alagaësia had not witnessed for over a hundred years:  
No less than eight dragons soaring in the chill light.  
One and all among their passengers,- be they Riders, captains, lieutenants, midwingmen, ground crew, ensigns or cadets,- were clothed warmly against the chill wind whipped up by the dragons' passing.  
Out front, leading the other seven flew Saphira.  
And on her back Eragon quietly sat in silent embarrassment, cut off from all on his crew but Theresa, who Saphira had allowed magnanimously to ride with Eragon as a favour to Admiral Lenton and Obversaria.  
It raised eyebrows among the crews, though they refrained from commenting on it.

Now as the sun rose, Eragon glanced back at Theresa.  
She met his gaze evenly, though a little wide-eyed and pale.  
With one hand, she placed a finger to her temple, and Eragon touched her mind.  
_You don't know how much this means to me, not telling the others._ She said, though there was an undercurrent of unease to the comment.  
_Do you feel up to some more advanced flying?_ Asked Eragon.  
He felt her uncertainty as she hesitated.  
_We won't let you fall Theresa._ Assured Saphira encouragingly.  
Theresa hesitated a moment more, then:  
_Okay._ She said with conviction.  
_Hold onto me._ Warned Eragon, as Saphira angled herself higher up above the formation.  
Eragon passed on to Noelfavrel to relay to the others to keep the same heading as Saphira continued to ascend.  
_Ready?_ Asked Eragon.  
_As ready as I'll ever be._ Replied Theresa grimly, and her grip around Eragon's waist tightened.

Without further ado, Saphira rolled right over, before going into a steep dive.  
_Breathe._ Eragon told Theresa, feeling the giddy exhilaration he always did when he and Saphira did this. _Don't go for anything too fancy Saphira, we do have an impressionable audience here as well._ Eragon reminded, though he got no response. She was too intent on the rapidly approaching ground.  
A moment later, and a bare hundred feet from the ground, Saphira snapped open her wings, and suddenly they were spiralling back into the lead of the formation.

_That was…_ Theresa trailed off as she tried to put her feelings into words.  
Eragon could feel she was as exhilarated by the experience as he was.  
_Tomorrow maybe, or the day after, would you care to ride Saphira on your own if she'll let you?_ Asked Eragon, and felt Theresa's startlement.  
_You'd do that for me?_ She said in awe.  
_One way or the other you'll end up the captain of a dragon Theresa._ Saphira admonished. _And what sort of captain would fear heights and flying with a dragon? This is as much to help you as it is a favour to your father._ She added.

* * *

That night, they made camp by the Jiet river.  
After posting a watch, the crew disposed themselves for the night to those chores necessary.  
Eragon found himself cleaning and polishing his pistols by Saphira as she dozed when Gideon deposited himself beside Eragon, looking preoccupied.  
'Something on your mind?' Asked Eragon.  
Gideon was silent for a while as Eragon continued cleaning the pistols.  
'Sorry about the other day.' He said at last.  
'You've nothing to apologise for, I believe you when you say that you only meant to play a joke on Murray.' Eragon admonished.  
Gideon sighed, though it didn't sound to Eragon like one of relief.

'Anything else you wish to say?' Eragon asked.  
'Not really.' Gideon replied uncommunicatively.  
They were quiet a few moments more before Eragon discerned what was on Gideon's mind.

'You're mulling over the unlikelihood of your ever getting a dragon of your own.' Eragon stated.  
Gideon shrugged noncommittally.  
'One of the reasons I kept Levitas company at Loch Laggan, I could pretend I had a dragon to care for, and I could let him know that there're actually people who do care about him.' He admitted.  
Eragon couldn't help but smile dryly.  
'Any aviator from your world, with the possible exception of Jack, would try and have you thrown out of the Corp for that.' He observed.  
'But you won't,' stated Gideon with complete certainty.  
'No, I won't.' Eragon admitted. 'And I did mean what I said about seeing to it that everyone on mine and Saphira's crew end up Captains in their own right.'  
Gideon nodded.

'Will we be expected to fight?' Asked Gideon, oddly, sounding not in the least apprehensive about the possibility.  
'Jörmundur is a good man, I think he'll appreciate that not everyone who comes with this formation comes to fight, though I doubt he'd stop you if you wanted to.' Replied Eragon.  
Gideon nodded, and stood to leave.

'And Gideon,' Eragon said firmly, causing the younger man to turn. 'If you do wish to fight, stick close to Noelfavrel or one of the others; Lone wolf stuff would just get you surrounded and killed, and I don't want to be having to replace you.'  
'Yes sir.' Gideon replied, snapping a casual salute.

* * *

The next day proceeded almost exactly like the previous day, until early afternoon when the formation found themselves flying over a bog.  
_I see the city, another few hours flight southwest._ Saphira said, angling towards the small irregular blur of the city Eragon could just see on the horizon.

* * *

The sun was setting when the formation found themselves making a final approach to the Varden's camp, which hemmed the city in on three sides, while the fourth was open to the sea, in which fishing boats were visible, in complete contrast and defiance of the besieging Varden.  
Upon seeing the city, Saphira stopped and hovered in place, bugling a resounding challenge for the dwellers of the city to hear, a call that Galzra, Jinx, Rosarias, Victoriatus, Mortarius, Vindexia and Noctus answered, bellowing their own clarion calls.  
Dimly, Eragon could hear a cheer from the mass of tents ringing the city.  
_Eragon?_ Asked one of the elves, who Eragon recognised as Blödhgarm.  
_Aye._ Eragon replied. _The formation the British promised us has come as well, to gain some experience in the brand of war we fight._ He added.  
_At last, some good news._ Blödhgarm replied, with something approaching relief. _A wing of these Frank dragons arrived last week, and it's all we've been able to do to keep them from using those bombs on us at their leisure.  
__How many in this wing?_ Asked Saphira.  
_We've counted five: One as big as the lead of this formation of Nasuada's, two roughly your size and two roughly the size of the small purple one flying abreast with you. _Blödhgarm replied after a moment.  
_That will not be an obstacle._ Saphira promised with complete certainty.

Further need for telepathy was removed as Saphira and the rest of the formation swept down to a cleared field just outside the encampment's rear defences.  
They didn't have to wait long for Jörmundur to appear, along with Blödhgarm and the five elves who'd accompanied him.  
One and all they looked tired and worn.  
'You've got a good sense of timing Eragon,' said Jörmundur with a tired smile. 'We're getting desperately low on supplies, and we've had to abandon the siege equipment we were using to keep those fishing boats in port, not to mention that those Frank dragons have been terrorising us night and day for the past week.'  
'You forgot that winter is nearly here,' commented Eragon, stepping forward and clasping forearms with Jörmundur. 'So Nasuada sent me along to help break the siege, Captain Scandland's formation also came along to gain some experience in our methods of warfare for when they enter into this war officially.'  
As Eragon said this, Captain Clark and Scandland approached.

Jörmundur made no comment on Scandland, though he gave the two of them an interested appraisal.  
'Which of you two would be Scandland?' He asked.  
'That would be me,' Scandland said, stepping forward. 'Captain Gloria Scandland, on Rosarias,' indicating the dragoness in question, who dipped her head politely, before snaking her head forward to regard Jörmundur curiously.  
Jörmundur, for his part looked away from the wide-eyed stare, but didn't recoil.  
'Rosarias, give the man some breathing room, we won't be here long, but we'll be seeing our share of him,' said Scandland with stern affection.  
Rosarias backed away a little, reproachfully, before regarding Jörmundur once again.  
'A pleasure to meet you sir,' she said, startling him, before withdrawing her head again to rear back on her haunches to try and take a better look at Aroughs.  
'They speak?' Asked Jörmundur in clear startlement.  
'Yes, our dragons do speak vocally sir,' said Clark, 'Captain Richard Clark, on Victoriatus, at your service sir, I'm currently in command of this formation until Captain Scandland is ready to take on the role.'  
'You're all very welcome, with your arrival, I think we just might be able to breach their thrice damned defences at last, come, I'll lead you to where your dragons may rest, Nasuada contacted us but we weren't properly expecting you all until sometime tomorrow, so it might be a little tight…' With this Jörmundur set off at a brisk pace into the camp.

Obviously a thoroughfare had been prepared, because there was enough room for Rosarias, the largest of the formation to walk without knocking anything over, though the stray piece of clothing suggested this had been done in a hurry.  
After a few minutes walk they arrived in a large clearing in the tent-city, screened from the city by a large tor, with a copse of trees at the summit and down the sides.  
Five minutes of confusion later and the dragons were unpacked and out of harness, and it was obvious that it'd be a rather cramped night.  
'Sorry for the tight squeeze,' Jörmundur said afterward.  
'Nothin' to apologise for, any camp back in our world, we'd be set up a mile off with nothin' but hard tack to chew on and malnourished stock for our dragons,' said Jack.  
Introductions proceeded, though it was to the startlement of Jörmundur and the elves to see Noelfavrel as Galzra's rider.

* * *

After the camp was set up, Blödhgarm lead Eragon, Noelfavrel, the Captains and the dragons to Jörmundur's command post; it had been a pavilion, until the arrival of the formation.  
'Is it just me, or is he being a little oversolicitous towards us?' Asked Jinx in the dragon-equivalent of a conspiratorial whisper.  
Blödhgarm chuckled heartily.  
'I think he might be a little bit intimidated,' he said, 'either that, or he's trying to make a good impression on you all as to our hospitality.'  
'He could've given us a barren, poky little hole in the ground a quarter of the size of what he's given us, on the front lines and painted a bullseye there, and we'd still have had worse lodgings.' Clark said. 'No, short of a covert I've not had better accommodation in the field, and in some instances what your commander has given us beats a covert.'  
'You'd do well to remember that neither I, nor the elves under my command are under Jörmundur's command; we aid the Varden, but we answer only to Eragon and Queen Islanzadì. In that order.' Blödhgarm replied briskly.

* * *

'We can't delay our final assault.' Jörmundur said after the meeting had gotten past the logistics of feeding eight dragons, six of which were still growing, and had apatites to match.  
'I think it best if we,-'Clark motioned to himself, Jack, Scandland, Grimmer, Sturn and Macintyre,- 'dealt with the enemy formation, that will leave Galzra and Saphira to deal with the troops on the ground and support your assault.'  
'That won't be necessary.' Blödhgarm said, 'I and my spell casters will relax our watch tonight, and when they begin their assault you can take them by surprise; if you either wound them enough that they'll be forced to retreat, or force them to land so we can capture them, you and your crews can support the assault directly.'  
This was followed by silence.

'Rosy and I can take out the defenders on the walls…' Scandland said at last.  
'Same with Victoriatus and I.' Clark said.  
'If you can take a square or two quickly, Mort and I can ferry troops around the city, but we won't be able to do much else, the streets are too cramped for us to land anywhere else.' Sturn said thoughtfully. 'And Mac and Vindexia can help there too.' He added.  
Jack grinned in anticipation, and elbowed Grimmer in the ribs.  
'The fighting is all ours then, Jinx and Noctus can fit on the streets easy.'  
'Each to his own,' Jörmundur broke in, 'but what about your crews?' He asked.  
'Ours can stay with us,' said Clark briskly, motioning once more to him and Scandland. 'Rosarias and Victoriatus are too big to land in the city comfortably at any rate, not without destroying a few buildings.'  
'My boy's 'll stay with Jinx 'n' I,' Jack said breezily, 'we'll fly 'round and make nuisances of ourselves.'  
Sturn shrugged.  
'It isn't exactly cramped on Mort's back so there shouldn't be a problem with keeping my crew on, and thus Mac shouldn't have any trouble either.' He said, shooting Macintyre a dirty look when the man went to protest.  
'Mine and Saphira's crew will disperse among the crews of the others; Saphira has made quite clear we're fighting as shur'tugal in this one.' Eragon said. 'And Noelfavrel, if Gideon decides to fight, he'll be with you and Galzra, as much so he can look out for you, as you can make sure he doesn't get himself killed.'

Noelfavrel nodded in acknowledgement.  
'After this is over, we can either march back to the Varden, leaving just enough of our troops to keep the city in order, or we can leave some of the troops and use the Charm of Crossing to bring our men through to England, and from there straight to Fienster and save the march.' He said.  
Eragon looked at the young man in approval.  
'That hadn't even occurred to me, an excellent idea.' He replied.  
Noelfavrel beamed with pleasure at the complement.  
'Some of Du Vrangr Gata's mages must remain with our garrison here at any rate, so we they can even perform the charm, a neat solution.' Admitted Jörmundur.  
'Alright, we'd best go get set then; Lord knows we won't have much time to prepare.' Scandland said, already standing.

***Phew...***

**This was a hard chapter to write, and I'm sure you can guess why.**

**Alternate storyline, no framework in the IC to work on ,(yet) and more OCs than you can shake a stick at.  
Hence, the long wait.**

**Actually, considering how much the _Temeraire _storyline is going to change, I think it might be better if I go back to updating when I finish a chapter instead of the once-a-week thing I was doing.**

**Plus, end-of-year exams this term, so I'll have a heap of homework.  
Rest assured though, I'll (try) and get back to once-a-week as fast as possible when I canonically get to ToJ.**

**I'll also note that although _Inheritance _will undoubtedly influence this fic to some extent, I'm not going to go back and alter it to suit that storyline.**

**However, I've got a funny feeling I'll end up doing some stuff regardless. (The Vault of Souls for instance...whatever it actually turns out to be...)**

**Anyway, Acknowledgement time:**

**For Favourite Authoring: Forsaken By All.**

**For Story Alerting: Forsaken By All, YoukinaAmonYoukai.**

**For the Favourite Author add: Forsaken By All.**

**And finally, for Reviewing: Forsaken By All, Hideout Writer, JAtkins, Twitchel.**

**Thank you one and all!**

**'til next time, (may that time come soon...)**

**No One-liners.**


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter IIXXXX

The Sack of Aroughs

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

Jack cocked his repeater and crouched low to Jinx's neck.  
'Alright, ladies and gents, nothing fancy, if any of the enemy go to hide in the houses, pick a target elsewhere and shoot them instead, we don't want to go killing civilians.' He said. 'And don't go jumping down to go for a close-quarter fight, let them come to us if they can get on Jinx, we have the advantage so let's use it.'  
'Eloquent of you captain,' commented the elf assigned to Jack's crew, a silver-haired she-elf called Eliria.  
'Comes with experience,' Jinx called. 'The prerequisite are Captain's bars.'  
Jack glanced around to ask how Jinx would know, and saw Victoriatus and Rosarias making their runs on the wall.

They were neat passes, but would've been utterly suicidal without the assistance of the elves, and the number of deflected arrows, quarrels and rocks bore testament to the fact.  
The effect the passes had were far more telling.

Victoriatus's long foreclaws swept men and ballistae alike off the edges of the wall left of the gate, and Rosarias's barbed tail sent them flying on the right, and straight down the middle came Eragon and Saphira, flaming directly into the sheltered arch above.

'We have a hole Jinx, let's make a foothold.'  
Jinx didn't need telling twice, and dove down into the courtyard behind the gate, closely followed by Noctus.

They found a battalion of soldiers waiting for them, along with a quartet of figures facing the gate, arms raised, chanting something rendered unintelligible by their speaking out of time with one another.  
Jinx wasted no time in attacking the battalion, leaving Jack with a shaky angle on the four spell casters, who were making a break for it.  
'Bring 'em down!' Shouted Jack to his riflemen, indicating the four spell weavers.

As he watched, two of them dropped dead from pinpoint accurate arrow shots from Eliria, while the other two were caught by a volley of rifle fire, quickly followed by another five to be sure they weren't faking it.  
Jack Dyer didn't believe in overkill.

'Enough!' Jack glanced around, and even Jinx paused in the act of carving up the battalion, who likewise paused in doing their level best in their futile if brave attempt to bring Jinx down.  
The whip-crack command had also made Jinx back up to a safe distance and release the man he'd snatched up in his talons in preparation to throw.  
Not wanting to waste the reprieve, the man scurried off to the side, throwing down his weapons as he did.

In the courtyard was Saphira, and Eragon had just slid down from her back, his blue sword held ready in his grip.  
Jack had to admit the kid looked formidable decked out in chainmail with a sword and shield in his hands.  
With Saphira at his back he'd look downright terrifying to a infantryman.  
'You've seen what allies we have, and you no doubt know what happened to the dragons that went to fight the Varden last night.' Eragon said to the infantrymen before Jinx. 'We do not wish to fight you, our quarrel is against Galbatorix, lay down your arms and surrender, and you will not be harmed.' Eragon said.  
'Yeah, sure.' Called the battalion's captain. 'Who're you to say what'll happen?'  
Eragon locked eyes with the man.  
'I am Eragon Shadeslayer, Rider of Saphira Bjartscular, you have my word of honour that you will not be harmed should you lay down your arms.' Eragon replied.

The gate behind him shook in its frame as a colossal blow landed, followed shortly after by a second.  
'Last chance, surrender or die.' Eragon said.

The reactions were predictable to Jack's eye.  
Roughly three quarters of the battalion's remnants threw down their weapons, another eighth fled into the city, and the remainder along with the captain charged Eragon.  
'Ready!' Ordered Jack, then stopped, struck dumb as Eragon struck down first one, then another, then another _three_, then several more of the attacking men in fluid, almost contemptuous blows, before stepping past the captain as he slid in half, first his top half, then his lower half.

With this done, Saphira took one of the gates in her forepaws, then hauled it ajar as Eragon lifted the heavy bar free, before Jinx took the opposite gate and hauled it ajar, allowing the Varden's soldiers to stream through the gate.

* * *

Meanwhile, Galzra and Noctus had landed elsewhere in the city, and were currently fighting another group of troops which they'd caught out in the open.  
As she watched, Galzra saw Noctus spit a globule of his venom and strike a captain that had been attempting to rally the troops.

The venom struck him full in the chest, and soaked through his leather backed mail and shirt, and he screamed in agony as the burning venom began to eat into his skin.  
With a deft flick of her tail, Galzra put the man out of his misery by breaking his neck.

On her back, Noelfavrel shot another man who'd been about to fire on Noctus, while behind him Gideon did much the same thing.

Then Noctus yelled in surprise, and attempted to buck an exceptionally daring soldier off his back leg as the man tried to climb onto his back.  
Galzra went to flick him off, but before she could, he fell as Gideon shot him through the back of the head.

Sweeping another six men from their feet, and driving more into the other streets while Noctus did the same on the other side of the square, Galzra glanced up and saw Mortarius coming in to land in the recently captured square with a good fifty extra men clinging to his harness.  
The city was breached.

* * *

Scandland urged Rosarias to disengage from where she'd been savaging a watchtower which a group of soldiers had hunkered down in to snipe at the Varden's soldiers for a breather.  
Somehow, she felt it shouldn't be as easy as it was, The Varden were taking the city with absurd ease.

The soldiers of Aroughs were fighting tenaciously, but as they'd successfully robbed the city of their aerial support the previous evening when Blö dhgarm's gambit had succeeded in luring the French into an attack which had gone seriously astray from the beginning when they'd found themselves attacked in turn by Saphira, Rosarias, Victoriatus, Mortarius and Vindexia.  
'This is why all modern cities have pepper guns and other such deterrents.' Said Lieutenant Rinehart, Scandland's first.  
'This is too easy, did they really need us to take this city?' Asked Rosarias as they circled above.  
'Yes, it is too easy, and I think all they would've needed was Eragon, but it would have proven more costly Rosy, and the ease that this going with has as much to do with good planning as our presence.' Scandland replied.  
'Captain, DeKere of Du Vrangr Gata wishes our assistance, the Varden he is with are being harassed by crossbowmen which have taken over a storehouse.' Said Fyf, the elf assigned to Rosarias.

Scandland went to ask where, but the elf merely pointed with unerring accuracy to a storehouse near a square, where a column of smoke could be seen rising.  
'I see it.' Rosarias said, before heading for the building.

* * *

Jack pistol-whipped a soldier, before giving him a solid kick in the guts, sending him off Jinx's back, before shooting another that was grappling with his new first lieutenant Wallace.  
'Thanks sir,' said the young man, breathing heavily.  
This was only his second engagement including the little shit-show on the way from Dover, and in that he'd earned Jack's approval with his level head.  
'Reloaded!' Reported one of the riflemen.  
'Good, where to next Eliria?' Asked Jack.

So far, they'd been making nuisance attacks, or bailing out Varden who'd bitten off more than they could chew.  
'We're making our final push, we're to support Eragon and Saphira while they secure the Governor.' The she elf replied, eyeing Jack.  
Jack had a funny feeling that Eliria was either rather impressed with the way he handled his crew, or rather disapproving of his methods in fighting.  
'Jinx, take us to the top of the keep, Eliria, tell Eragon we'll meet him there.'

* * *

Eragon looked over the city as Saphira perched on the tower roof.  
In less than four hours, the Varden had managed to force the Empire's forces back to the keep, and now it was only a matter of time before they stormed the keep.  
As he watched, Rosarias swept the curtain wall clean with her barbed tail, and Victoriatus made tangled ruins of the siege engines in the courtyard with his long foreclaws, before launching himself into the air once more.

'Alright, now what?' Called Jack through a speaking trumpet as Jinx began to circle, as Eragon watched Vindexia pull the portcullis out of the curtain wall, and Noctus unbar the inner gate.  
'Drop Eliria and Gregs in the tower and resume circling, I'll call if we require any more assistance.' Eragon called back, as Saphira dropped her tail down the side of the tower, allowing Eragon to climb down to a window.

Inside, he was met by Eliria, Gregs and,-surprisingly,- Jack.  
The maverick aviator captain grinned.  
'You think I'd miss this? Jinx would never let me hear the end of it,' he said, as if reading Eragon's mind.  
'I should've guessed.' Eragon replied dryly.

Eliria cocked her head.  
Eragon listened intently.  
'I know that chant,' he said with a chill, remembering a similar time several months previously.

'Jack, Gregs, weapons out, when we get into the Governor's study, shoot whoever is chanting.' Eragon said.  
_Saphira.  
_Eragon said, projecting the situation for her as they came down the stairs and entered the Governor's apartments.

They were in an opulent sitting room, and in an armchair looking onto the courtyard below was a portly man with well groomed, wispy white hair.  
He looked around when he heard the small group enter.  
'Well played Rider, I imagine you put those French out of business last night so those yellow and white fellows could ferry troops wholesale? Yes, very clever, now you have to stop them,- the Governor motioned to a group of four spell casters who were standing around a fifth chanting a spell. 'They're attempting to summon a shade to reap devastation on the Varden, to scorch the earth so to speak.'

As if on queue, Saphira landed on the balcony, making the Governor recoil in shock.  
_Same deal as with Fienster. _Saphira said.  
Eragon went to begin hacking at the nearest man's wards, but a gunshot rang out, followed by that man falling to the floor in a burst of blood.

A second later another shot rang out, and the man who was the subject of the spell fell dead, shot between the eyes.  
The feedback made the remaining three fall to their knees with nose-bleeds.

Another two simultaneous shots and two more fell dead, before a final shot took the final woman in the heart.  
Eragon glanced around to see Jack holster his pistols.  
'Problem solved.' He said with a modest shrug. 'They obviously didn't factor gunpowder into their calculations.' He added.  
Saphira snorted in amusement, before launching herself back into flight.

'Very well then Governor.' Eragon said.  
'Yes, I believe it is time I put an end to this stupidity by admitting defeat, as I so wish I could have done at the start of all this and defected.'  
So saying, he stood, and walked from the tower with them.

**Well, that took a while, but I hope it was worth it.**

**It's not really all that much of an 'epic battle' sort of thing, as snapshots of one.**

**Anyway, I guess I should do the acknowledgements:**

**For the Favourite Author add, I'd like to thank soldier of knowledge.**

**For Reviewing, I'd like to thank: Forsaken By All, JAtkins, Hideout Writer and soldier of knowledge.**

**'til next time:**

**No One-liners.**


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter IXXXX

Traitor

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

As it turned out, Governor Toth's handing himself over wasn't enough to secure a total surrender, and the Varden and aviators spent the remainder of the day putting down the last pockets of resistance.

The next day however, everything was packed and ready to move before first light, and shortly afterward, two of the four members of Du Vrangr Gata who'd be remaining behind,-along with two battalions-worth of Varden soldiers,-cast the Charm of Crossing, in conjunction with Arya and Murtagh on the other end.  
After a short meeting with Admiral Lenton,-who grudgingly agreed to the plan,- Eragon and Blödhgarm opened another gate, this time to the gates of Fienster.  
The moving of Jörmundur's force took up most of the morning, and attracted a small group of curious aviators, ground crew, and cadets with nothing better to do until their captains came to find them and found jobs for them to be doing.

After Blödhgarm and Jörmundur departed, Lenton proceeded to berate Eragon and Noelfavrel for the scheme.  
'You're here in _absolute_ secrecy!' He exclaimed. 'No one outside of the Corps besides the King and a few very senior men know of your true nature; I don't need my men spilling this drunkenly in Dover and raising bloody hysteria all across the bloody country, and displays like that do nothing for discretion.'  
Eragon frowned at this.  
'Why is it so important that our true nature remains secret?' He asked.  
Lenton groaned.  
'Haven't you noticed that most everyone is quite religious here?' He asked resignedly.  
'I have, but I don't really see how that is such a problem.' Eragon replied.  
'It is a problem,' Lenton said, 'because most everyone in Europe is _very_ devout and faithful to their beliefs. It just so happens that magic is considered to be the unholy power of hell and evil; people have been hung, or burned at the stake for supposedly practicing witchcraft, as magic is often referred to. Then there're those damned Spaniards. If their Inquisition should learn of you, they'll make their own bids to see you dead. In short, there're plenty of reasons for you to keep a lower profile with magic, and most of them have to do with religion.' He added.

* * *

It also turned out that Excidium's formation had been sent to support Mortiferus, meaning that Saphira and Eragon found themselves patrolling either singly or in small formation with a pair of lightweights or mid-weights and Lenton saw fit, much like Thorn and Temeraire had been since the Longwing's formation had left.  
Eragon had also been rather hesitant about being anywhere within a mile of Thorn after taking vengeance on Murtagh in the manner he had, but it proved unavoidable that he'd come into close proximity with the young dragon.  
It appeared that Murtagh had managed to convince Thorn that there were more benefits than detriments to Eragon's vengeance,-not least of all that he had saved Murtagh's life rather than letting him die afterward.

No raids came in the weeks after Excidium left, and Lenton was of the opinion it was due to the French still believing Excidium to still be in residence.  
'Or, more likely they're very aware of the fact Saphira and Thorn are in residence and are more than capable of punching above their weight.' He added with a satisfied air a fortnight after Eragon returned from Aroughs. 'How's Theresa coming along?' He asked.  
'More or less over fear I believe, you might want to see if she holds up as well on Obversaria's back however; flying in a saddle, and with a harness are two very different things.' Eragon replied, taking a sip of the wine Lenton had poured him on the faint hope it was a step up from the what the covert regularly had.  
He struggled not to make a face upon learning he'd hoped in vain.

The next day, everyone took heart upon learning of Excidium's safe arrival.  
'They'd already begun when I left, Captain James told them, taking a hurried breakfast before starting on his return journey. 'you could hear the Spaniards howling for miles: their merchantmen are as quick to fall apart under dragon-spray as any ship-of-the-line, and their shops and houses as well. I expect they'll fire on the French themselves if Villenueve doesn't come out soon, alliance or not.'  
The atmosphere grew lighter after this encouraging news and Lenton cut their patrols short, and gave them all liberty for celebration, a welcome respite to all concerned.

Jinx's and Dulcia's crews struck up a game of cricket, while Eragon and Saphira took the opportunity to spar with Galzra and Noelfavrel.

Galzra was only a few feet shorter at the shoulder than Thorn now, and only two feet shorter, though she was yet to be able to breath fire.

* * *

Later that night, a low, eerie cry awoke Murtagh.  
Thorn raised his head and sniffed the air.  
_I smell blood._ He said standing and mantling his wings, his tail twitching.  
The cry came again.  
_And that is Lily._ He added.  
_I'll go see what has happened, but be ready for my call, I'd wager this is treachery._ Murtagh replied, drawing Zar'roc.

As Murtagh approached, he heard the sound of a scuffle break out, followed by a muffled oath.  
Murtagh broke into a run, his feet thudding against the frozen ground.  
Then a tremendous roaring, and Murtagh saw Praecursoris circling the clearing.  
_I knew it. _He said to himself. _Thorn!_ He called, relaying what had happened as he dashed into the clearing in time to see Choiseul regain his cutlass and prepare to deal Laurence a death blow.

Catherine went to strike him with an iron bar, but some sixth-sense made Choiseul whirl at the last second and deflect the bar with an up-raised arm, before he struck Harcourt in the belly, sending her to the ground.  
The distraction allowed Murtagh to close the gap between himself and Choiseul before the traitorous Frenchman could turn back to Laurence.

With a shout, Murtagh lunged, and forced Choiseul to defend himself.  
Choiseul had a slight advantage in height and weight over Murtagh, but these were hardly telling factors, as Murtagh was far, _far_ more skilled a swordsman than Choiseul.  
Murtagh dragged the fight out for a full five minutes, by which time the commotion Praecursoris was making, and Thorn's timely arrival and engagement with the Chanson-de-Guerre,-which was quickly ended by the arrival of Temeraire,- attracted a crowd.  
To his credit, Choiseul did have some skill, and the real reason Murtagh was forced to drag the fight out was because he couldn't afford to kill him.

But, chance didn't appear to want the fight to go easily, and after evading a cut from Choiseul by back-pedalling, Murtagh tripped over the body of one of Harcourt's midwingmen, and Choiseul was on him in an instant, and it was all Murtagh could do to deflect his cutlass.  
Out of desperation, Murtagh put a kick into Choiseul's leg, causing the Frenchman to stumble, allowing Murtagh to scramble to his feet.

Just as Choiseul regained his balance, Murtagh re-launched his offensive, battering Choiseul's cutlass from his hand, before knocking him out cold with a left-hook to the nose.  
Panting for breath, Murtagh sheathed Zar'roc, then observed the gathered crowd.  
'Bravo sir,' Laurence said, 'well done indeed, that traitor would've had me if you hadn't of stepped in.' He was supporting Harcourt, who was looking very shaken.

Above, the three dragons were still facing off.  
Murtagh pulled Choiseul to his knees by the hair, then put Zar'roc to the man's neck.  
Harcourt's first Lieutenant cupped his hands to his mouth after Laurence and Harcourt explained the circumstances,-which Murtagh would've given his right arm at that moment to know,- bellowed up at Praecursoris.  
Upon seeing Choiseul's plight, he flew in wild circles, before going to land not far off Temeraire and Thorn hovering watchfully 'til he landed.  
Maximus was housed not far off, and Berkley had come to the clearing upon hearing the noise, along with Eragon, Arya and Noelfavrel.  
In short order, Praecursoris was chained down.

'What happened?' Asked Eragon as a pair of Harcourt's crewmen took charge of the unconscious Choiseul.  
Murtagh shrugged.  
'I'm not sure, Thorn and I heard Lily crying out in distress and I came to investigate, and saw Choiseul about to kill Laurence, and after that I stepped in; but if you want answers, I think Harcourt or Laurence would be the better ones to ask to provide them.' He replied. 'I know as much as you right now.'  
Having said this, he hurried over to where Thorn had landed near Lily, along with Temeraire, and where Laurence was comforting them both.  
_Are you hurt?_ Asked Murtagh in concern.  
_No, _replied Thorn. _maybe a little bruised, but that is all._ _But Lily is rather distraught, and Temeraire isn't far off either.  
_'What happened?' Murtagh asked of Laurence, sheathing Zar'roc again as he did so.  
'Choiseul planned to kidnap Lily and Harcourt to barter for clemency in France.' Laurence replied, sounding little better than Murtagh felt.  
'Bastard.' Murtagh replied. 'I knew there was something not write right with him right from the off. I'd wager he learnt how block telepathy from one of the Black Hand, or maybe from Galbatorix himself.'  
'We'll soon know.' Laurence replied, then resumed comforting Lily and Temeraire, as Murtagh turned to satisfying himself that Thorn really was alright.

**And there's the second big liberty I've taken with the actual storyline.**

**I've been wanting to pit Murtagh against Choiseul since the start, and now that's finally off my to-do list!**

**Less than four days 'til Inheritance now! (I'm so excited!)**

**Also, note that whatever happens there, this story will almost definitely proceed differently.**

**Yes, the VoS probably will feature (It's more or less confirmed as pivotal element after all…).**

**I'll also be seeing this through.**

**However, I think that I might call this complete after the events of **_**Temeraire **_**and start a new story for **_**Throne of Jade**_**, because this is bidding fair to being fifty chapters long, so in the cause of keeping things manageable…**

**Anyway, the people I owe thanks to this time:**

**For Favouriting: Dark God Anubis, soldier of knowledge, FlameingWings, Culebra del Sol.**

**For Favourite Authoring: Dark God Anubis**

**For Reviewing: Hideout Writer, soldier of knowledge, Twitchel, expert93.**

**For Story Alerting: Dark God Anubis**

**For Author Alerting: Dark God Anubis**

**Also, a special mention to Dark God Anubis for the four adds.**

'**til next time:**

**No One-liners.**


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter XXXX

Hearing the News

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One.**

Eragon cast a look at the miserable form of Praecursoris.  
The great dragon was held down by heavy chains, and virtually every dragon in the covert was arrayed around him, watching him with the alertness of cats watching a reflected light.  
_I doubt he'd try anything._ Saphira confided to Eragon. _Not when they've threatened to kill Choiseul if he does.  
_Eragon silently agreed, and was uncomfortably aware all of a sudden of how vulnerable Saphira would be in the same situation.  
_The difference is, you're so wrapped up in wards, I would've killed them all by the time they'd worn down one._ Saphira said dismissively.

It had been two days since Choiseul's betrayal, and the mood in the covert was grim.  
Harcourt, Laurence and Lenton had been questioning him since he'd regained coherent speech, to little effect.  
Murtagh and Eragon had offered to wrest the information they were after from Choiseul's mind, but they'd declined, deeming such a method as 'too occult and attention grabbing.'

Work had begun on fortifying the shoreline against a possible invasion attempt:  
Digging in gun batteries, martialling militia, and Eragon had even seen soldiers coming from further inland on his and Saphira's last flight.  
Along with that, dragons from other coverts had begun to filter in, including,-much to Eragon's distaste,- Rankin and Levitas.

Fortunately, the covert was fairly well populated now, if by no means full, and Eragon and the others were able to avoid him, though Eragon was secretly pleased to note on several occasions as he headed for the covert headquarters, that Gideon and one of Laurence's ground crew leader,-Hollin, Eragon was fairly certain,- had taken it upon themselves to see to the little Winchester's well-being.

Gideon had evidently noticed Eragon via his telepathy, because he'd stiffened at one point, as if discovered.  
_Just don't let Rankin catch you Gideon._ Eragon had told the gunner with some amusement.

* * *

'And there's still been no word from Cadiz?' Gregs asked Eragon almost plaintively, recalling Eragon to his surrounds.  
'No, nothing.' Eragon replied. 'Still, the French haven't tried anything either, so it might not be all bad news.'  
'I wish those bastards would hurry up and do_ something_.' Groused Teel darkly. 'This infernal waiting is killing me, and I'm not the only one cracking under the suspense.'  
'Tell me about it.' Gregs replied. 'If Gideon isn't churning out ammunition like a neurotic, some of the crewmen are brooding over someone they were seeing on one of the dragons at Cadiz, or are stumbling back from Dover at two in the morning.'  
Eragon gave quiet chuckle at this.  
'That's tailed off I think you've noticed; gunnery practice is rather unpleasant when you've got a hangover,-or so I've observed.' He said conversationally.  
Teel and Gregs chuckled evilly at this.  
'You're a piece of work Captain, and no mistake.' Teel said with a shake of his head.

* * *

The sounds of gunshots tore Eragon from his sleep the next morning.  
He and Saphira were on their feet and rearing for a fight before the echoes of the first sporadic shots had died away.  
He looked around, trying to gauge how many enemies were about, whether they were magicians, and a whole host of other paraphernalia regarding countering a surprise attack.

Eragon's second runner, a young boy by the name of Fred Carter. In Eragon's opinion, he was a bit too intelligent for his own good, and he had a habit of hanging around to listen in on any conversations he might be having with Gregs and Teel.  
'What's going on?' Eragon said as Carter slowed to a stop upon seeing Eragon, sword in hand and Saphira looking around with a look of savage ire in her eyes.  
'Sir, Captain James is just back from Cadiz; Admiral Nelson sent the French and Spanish Navies to Davy Jones's locker!' Carter reported excitedly.

The only parts of Carter's message Eragon understood were 'Captain James', 'Cadiz' and 'French and Spanish Navies'.  
'Thank you Carter, now if you don't mind pass that along to Gregs and Teel, I'm going to go and get the full of it.' Eragon replied, looking around for Noelfavrel, but a cursory examination revealed the boy had already left the clearing.  
With a shrug, Eragon sheathed Brisingr and set off at a swift jog for the covert headquarters.

* * *

'Nelson told me to wait; said they'd come out of port before I had time to make another circuit,' James was saying when Eragon pushed his way into the packed officer's club.  
'I hardly believed him, but sure enough, by Sunday morning out they came, and we met them off Cape Trafalgar early on Monday.'  
He drained a cup of coffee, all the company waiting impatiently for him to finish, and pushed his plate aside for a moment to relieve Sutton of the diagram he was trying to sketch of what Eragon could only assume was the course of the battle.  
'Here, let me,' he said, drawing circles to mark the positions of the ships. 'Twenty-seven dragons and twelve dragons of ours, to twenty-three and ten.'

'Two columns, breaking their line twice?' This was Laurence, leaning across in front of Eragon to study the diagram, leaving Eragon to rock back on his heels and wait for the man to finish his examining of the sketch.  
'What? Oh, the ships, yes, with Excidium and Laetificat over the weather column, Mortiferus over the lee,' James said. 'It was hot work at the head of the divisions, I can tell you; I couldn't see so much as a spar from above for the clouds of smoke. At one time I thought for sure _Victory _had blown up; the Spanish had one of those blasted Flecha-del-Fuegos over there, dashing about quicker than our guns could answer. He had all her sails on fire before Laetificat sent him running with his tail between his legs.'

Eragon could well imagine the big Regal Copper doing just that, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the unfortunate dragon in question.

'What were our losses?' Warren asked, his quiet voice cutting through the high spirits and excitement.  
James shook his head. 'It was a proper bloodbath and no mistake,' he said sombrely. 'I suppose we have close on a thousand men dead; and poor Nelson himself came within a hairsbreadth of it: the fire-breather set alight one of _Victory's _sails, and it came down upon him where he stood on the quarterdeck. A couple of quick-thinking fellows doused him with the scuttlebutt, but they say his medals were melted to his skin and he'll wear them forevermore.'

'A thousand men; God rest their souls,' Warren said; conversation ceased, and when finally it resumed it was at first subdued.  
But excitement and joy gradually overcame what were perhaps the more proper sentiments of the moment.

Eragon felt the knot of tension that had accumulated in his gut since Choiseul's betrayal unravel slightly.  
He made his excuses to leave a moment after Laurence did, before navigating his way back out the door and took off as fast as was humanly possible,-nowhere near as fast as Eragon could go, but fast enough,-for Saphira's clearing to relay the news, only pausing to motion for Noelfavrel, who was trying to force himself through the crowd to follow him.

**Alright, I'm back.**

**I've been gone for close on five months, and I don't really have a single excuse.**

**The most all-pervading one is school, but some other ones have come up as well that have killed my mood to write fan fiction.**

**So, I'm sorry for the short chapter, but I'm sure you'll agree that it is something.**

**So, first up, for those who've seen my profile, you'll know that I have a challenge going, regarding crossovers.**

**Well, there have been a few people who've published stories that fit the criteria, so I'll give them some advertising as I promised before I go much further:**

**So, in the IC\Skyrim category there are: 'Eragon's Skyrim Adventure' by IAmAltair, 'Dragon Rider, Dragon Born' by 252 Reluctant Saviour, 'Dragon Rider, meet Dovahkiin', by He who gets bored easy, and 'Forgotten Inheritance' by Thane of Eastmarch.**

**In the IC\Warhammer Fantasy category there is 'The Lost Prince of Caledor' by Caledor54.**

**In the Halo\WH40k crossover with Chief and Cpt. Titus, there's 'Orca' by JonasGrant.**

**Now, on to the people I owe thanks to, as well as an apology for not writing anything for so long:**

**I'm really, really sorry to everyone who's subscribed and favourited over the past five months to this story, but I've actually received so many of these things across all my stories that I actually can't find you all, so for the first time since I started the thanks section, I'll just have to say a general 'thank you' instead of a personal one. Again, I'm sorry about that, hopefully I'll be able to update faster in the future and avoid this problem.**

**However, on the review front, the review page is a lot easier to navigate in terms of finding you all, so:**

**For reviewing, I'd like to thank: Hideout Writer, dragonshina, Twitchel, Culebra del Sol, Forsaken By All, soldier of knowledge, John Christopher L. Ticyado and Zman.**

**Well, I guess the absence and the letdown prove I am actually human and fallible…**

**I'm not relishing seeing how many angry comments I hear about this…**

**Anyway, 'til next time…**

**No One-liners! (It's been FAR too long since I did that.)**


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter XXXXI

Hang 'em High, For All to See

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One**

When Eragon delivered the news, he'd expected most of his crew to make for Dover to celebrate.  
He had not expected most of the covert to go as well, all but leaving it to Captains, dragons and the Alagaësians.

* * *

Later that evening, having spent the better half of the day catching up on rest, beginning on drawing up a compendium of words in the ancient language, and flying with Saphira for the sake of it, Eragon found himself on the covert head-quarter's second floor balcony along with most of the other captains,-excluding Rankin who apparently was away on a scouting run,- and paying half attention while they talked over the victory and theorising on what Napoleon had actually been planning.

'Quoth Lord St. Vincent, "I do not say they cannot come, but they cannot come by sea,"' Chenery said, recalling Eragon back to himself.

He made a mental note to pay more attention to what was going on around him,-particularly where the other aviators were concerned. They mightn't be the sort who'd wish him dead, but it was still bad form to zone out and go over the day in his head when people were talking.

'And if Bonaparte thinks to take Britain with forty dragons and their crews, he is very welcome to try, and we can give him a taste of those guns the militia fellows have been so busily digging-in. It would be a pity to waste all their hard work.'  
Eragon considered this for a moment.  
'He might just decide to take that risk; when word of Cadiz reaches him, he just might be angry enough to launch an attack. What worries me is what he's doing over near Cherbourg to have the area patrolled so heavily? Where were all his dragons if there were so few with the French fleet? By Choiseul's telling, Napoleon was planning something; it wouldn't surprise me if Napoleon just wanted Excidium and Mortiferus gone so he could launch an attack.' He said gravely.  
'That's a sobering thought.' Lenton conceded. 'Much as I'd love to give that rascal another dose of medicine, you raise some valid points, and suddenly I find myself less eager for that fight; at any rate, I'll wait on Captain Rankin's report in a few days before I make any judgement.' Having said this, he swallowed his port and put the glass down firmly. 'There's no more putting it off though, I'm afraid; we cannot need anything more from Choiseul now.'  
In the silence that followed this, Harcourt's drawn breath was almost a sob.

'I can take care of that now if you like,' Eragon said, drawing his belt knife. 'Nice and quiet and no sympathetic misery for Praecursoris.'  
Lenton actually paused and considered the offer.  
'No, Eragon.' He said a moment later. 'As much as the offer is well intentioned and all the rest we have to make an example of him. He is a traitor after all.'  
Eragon sheathed his knife at this.  
'Very well.' Was his only reply. He didn't really agree with the notion of a public execution, particularly given that Praecursoris would probably be in attendance, and he'd hear the sort of grief Glaedr had felt given voice.

With that, he vaulted over the railing, landed on the balls of his feet three metres below and made his way back to Saphira's clearing with a bad taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with alcohol consumption.

* * *

Despite his best attempt to get away on patrol the next morning, Eragon was told in no uncertain terms via a message brought to him by Hawker that he and his crew were required to attend.

Despite what Choiseul had been planning, Eragon actually seriously considered intervening when he saw Praecursoris and Choiseul together before the Frenchman was hauled to the scaffold.  
What Eragon hadn't counted on was Praecursoris attempting to fight against his restraints to get after Choiseul, with the huge links jangling together and raising an awful racket that made Eragon want to cover his ears.  
The Chanson-de-Guerre's distressed cries were nearly more than Eragon could bear.

As Choiseul began doing the dance macabre, Eragon felt a vast mind touch his own, and recognised Glaedr.  
_He is little better than the Forsworn, Eragon. _Glaedr counselled, without sympathy.  
_I know. It is more for Praecursoris that I find myself in sympathy; he has not been reduced to a beast by Du Namar Aubodr, and his grief…It is as genuine as yours over Oromis._ Eragon replied.  
_Mmm…You're right. _Glaedr conceded. _And you did right with what you did with Murtagh; I am satisfied with the vengeance you took._

Praecursoris's anguished scream temporarily deafened Eragon, and he staggered.  
_Much as Glaedr is correct, and the deed is done, we should go. I don't think Noelfavrel or Galzra will take this as well as you did._ Saphira said.

Eragon gave a silent acknowledgement, but he couldn't help but spare a thought for Maximus, Lily and Temeraire as well as the majority of Rosarius's formation.  
He turned away, but not before he saw Praecursoris reduced a pathetic sobbing heap, and suddenly, Eragon felt his own heart grow heavy and contract painfully.

* * *

'Sonofabitch had it coming.' Jinx said venomously, pacing restlessly.  
'He was a traitor twice,-maybe three times,-over; he deserved to hang.' Agreed Macintyre with a shrug, but he didn't look so sure.  
'Kind of hard on Praecursoris though, and he didn't really do anything wrong besides bring him here.' Sturn said, scratching his chin; all the dragons and Captains of the small formation had gathered in Rosarius's clearing, for what Jack described as 'group hug therapy'.

It wasn't going too well.

'Well, he _did_ try and drop down on Murtagh while he was trying to fight him away from Laurence and Harcourt.' Rosarius put in.  
'And all he gets is the mixed curse of being sent to the breeding grounds over in the Americas.' Victoriatus rumbled. 'Some of us should be so lucky.' He added bitterly.  
'He had to watch his Captain die.' Pointed out Scandland, she looked slightly grim. 'I don't think he'd very much care if he was going to be killed himself or get shipped off to the breeding grounds.' She added, more to herself.

All assembled were quiet for a while, then a thought struck Jack.  
'How do you think Eragon and Murtagh are takin' it?' He wondered aloud.

* * *

'I don't say that wasn't the right thing to do, but I'd be lying if I didn't say that Praecursoris entirely deserved that.' Thorn said.  
'I don't know Thorn, I feel kind of bad for him,' Murtagh replied, massaging the back of his neck.  
Thorn grunted at this.  
'What Murtagh means is he can put himself in Praecursoris's position all-to-easily.' Saphira said, and she sounded uncomfortable with the notion.  
'We all can.' Eragon added.

'You all busy over here?'  
Eragon glanced over to where the voice originated from without interest.  
The clearing was virtually deserted, save for Murtagh, Thorn and Saphira, Eragon having dismissed his crew to their own devices for the day.  
The visitor was Berkley.  
'No, what brings you here?' Asked Eragon, more for politeness's sake than because he was truly interested.  
'Thought you might like to come over to Temeraire's clearing; Noelfavrel and Galzra are already there, and I'm just going to get Lily and Maximus now…' Berkley shrugged. 'Might be that one of us can pull us all out of this thrice damned sympathetic misery.' He said without much conviction.  
Eragon and Saphira traded looks while Thorn and Murtagh did the same.  
'Not like we've much better to do.' Admitted Eragon with a shrug.

* * *

When they'd all settled however, it was nearly unbearably awkward:  
Harcourt broke down against Berkley's shoulder and started crying, and even Laurence appeared to be affected.  
Noelfavrel was looking a lot like Murtagh did usually:  
Brooding and dark, though he was pacing in agitation.

As Berkley had said, Galzra was also present, though she had coiled herself in a sullen heap by Temeraire, and had only reluctantly got up to make room for Lily, Maximus, Thorn and Saphira.  
The six had entwined themselves in a complex and many-coloured pile, evidently trying to provide mutual comfort.

'It's not him; damned rotter, deserved it,' Berkley said, referring to Choiseul, in attempt to comfort Harcourt.  
'You're sorry for Praecursoris.' Murtagh said, low. 'You're sorry in the same way Eragon, Noelfavrel and myself are, not to mention Thorn Saphira and Galzra.'  
'Dragons don't think much of king and country, you know; Praecursoris never knew a damn thing about it but where Choiseul told him to go.'

Eragon privately disagreed, but before either he or Saphira could refute this simplistic idea, Temeraire beat them to it.

'That is not true; he has,' Said the young Imperial, 'Choiseul could not have forced him to fly away from France, nor to come here bent on hurting us. It does not seem he is any less guilty, at all.'  
'I agree, though I still don't think he deserved to have to experience the agony of losing the closest he had to a Rider.' Thorn said with a slight nod.  
'I suppose he did not understand what was being asked of him.' Harcourt volunteered tentatively.  
'Then he was a fool.' Thorn said, his pity turning to contempt remarkably quickly, maybe thinking that if he found enough reason to despise the French dragon, he'd be free from pitying him.  
'If that was the case he should have refused until he did understand.' Temeraire rejoined, a little more charitably. 'It is not as if he is a slow creature like Volly. He might have saved his rider's life, then, and his honour too. I would be ashamed to let my rider be executed, and not me too, if I had done as much.'

Saphira snorted at this.  
'If Eragon managed to get himself in such a position,-which if we fail to overthrow Galbatorix we very well may,- I would lay waste to those who would harm him with tooth and claw and flame until I reached him and then fly away with him, or if it was truly dire give myself over in return for his life.' She proclaimed. 'Even if it meant sacrificing all hope of ever ousting him.'

Laurence looked askance at Eragon when Saphira made the admission.  
'It's no use arguing with her over it.' Eragon said helplessly. 'I'd do exactly the same for her, we are beholden, really, to no-one but ourselves and the legacy that comes with being Shur'tugal.'

'For my part, I'd never let Murtagh get into such a position; better to fly away and let the world burn itself to oblivion, and die on the wing than to suffer that sort of parting.' Thorn commented.

Galzra just mewed her agreement with this statement.  
She might've rivalled all the light-weights at the covert presently, and bidding fair on becoming mid-weight, but she still was a timid Winchester at heart, and her confidence suffered greatly with starts like the present one.  
Noelfavrel however had no such inhibitions about making his stance on the matter known.  
'After all this is over, we'll never be in that situation, and even if Galzra and I are called upon as peacekeepers in the wake of the war, our loyalty is to the Riders.'

Murtagh for his part simply shrugged and gave his stock answer:  
'No stranger's life is more important than Thorn's or my own.' He said, indifferent to the disapproving looks it earned him from the three British captains.

'I would just take Catherine and go away, I think.' Lily said thoughtfully, not so much to break the uncomfortable, disapproving silence as offering her opinion like everyone else. 'But perhaps Praecursoris would have liked to do the same. I suppose he could not break all those chains, for he is smaller than either Temeraire or Maximus, he cannot spray, and he doesn't have anyone quite like Lady Arya or Eragon or Murtagh who could break them with magic. Also, there was only one of him, and he was being guarded. I do not know what I would do, if I could not have escaped.' She finished softly, and she, Maximus, Galzra and Temeraire began to slump further down into misery.

'You would've done the only thing possible.' Saphira said simply, sounding no-more troubled than she originally had. 'You would've fought back, and either succeeded or died along with Harcourt.'  
This wasn't really a reassuring remark, and Lily looked a little reproachful, but it was Temeraire who reproached her.

'We are not all so eager for death as you are, and not so nearly anxious for such a fight.' He said.  
'I am merely being realistic about the chances of such a scenario working out the way I would like it to.' Saphira replied, not at all contrite.

Temeraire shook his head and looked up, and said with sudden decision:  
'I will tell you what we shall do: if ever you need to rescue Catherine, or you Berkley, Maximus, I will help you, and you will do as much for me; and of course the same to you, Saphira, Thorn, Galzra.' He added the letter three after a small pause, sounding slightly abashed at nearly having forgotten them. 'Then we do not need to worry; I do not suppose anyone could stop all six of us, at least not before we escape.'

Saphira chuckled with dark amusement at this.  
'Then I hope you won't be too busy in the coming centuries; I have a feeling I will need to invoke this little pact more than any of you. Eragon…well, he has the most unfortunate penchant for things happening to him.' She said.  
'I can take care of myself Saphira, and I am sitting right here you know.' Eragon said in half mortification. 'Though I appreciate the sentiment.' He added with sincerity, choosing to ignore Laurence's look of alarm at the direction the conversation had taken.

* * *

The group broke up shortly after this, and Eragon and Saphira went flying some more to try and lose their cares and misery in the endless expanse of the sky, to some lessening of the melancholy they both felt.

**Okay, there's chapter forty-one.**

**Next chapter truly does mark the beginning of the end for this story, at least, this part of it at any rate.**

**I just finished with **_**Crucible of Gold**_**, and I can safely assure those who haven't read it yet that it is just as good as the previous ones…**

**And is for a lot of it just as shocking as the ending of **_**Empire of Ivory.**_

**So, the people I owe thanks to this time, are:**

**For Story Alerting: seff.**

**For the Favourite Author add: LupisDeuxEx.**

**For reviewing: dragonshina, Hideout Writer and soldier of knowledge.**

**So, next time we will learn the answer to The Question, so don't go anywhere.**

**No One-liners!**

**And props if you spot the **_**Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy**_** reference in this chapter.**


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter XXXXII

Breaking Point

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One.**

It was with little enthusiasm that Eragon received the news of a fireworks display to be held in celebration over the victory at Cape Trafalgar.  
Praecursoris had been taken to the transport bound for Nova Scotia that very morning, and Eragon was having trouble dismissing the matter.  
Nor could he rid himself of the dragon's last, anguished scream of grief when Choiseul had finally stilled, swaying from the rope.

So, it was with an equal level of enthusiasm that he and Saphira landed on a beach at the mouth of the river Thames, along with Thorn, Murtagh, Noelfavrel and Galzra at sunset to wait for the performance to begin.

He thawed a little when Temeraire, Maximus and Lily arrived with their captains in tow, and when they started making polite small talk, studiously avoiding the subject of Choiseul and Praecursoris, shortly Eragon found he was slightly happier over the order.  
The display itself was spectacular, and the only thing Eragon could've done without was the deafening detonation that accompanied each spectacularly coloured explosion.  
Between the fireworks and the orchestra playing on a barge in the middle of the river, Eragon managed to repress his personal discomfort with Choiseul's demise and Praecursoris's anguish.

* * *

'Skipper, you're wanted up at the headquarters.'  
Eragon blinked himself out of his waking dream.  
'What?' He asked, standing and stretching.

Carter was standing at attention next to where Eragon had been reclining against Saphira's side.  
'Admiral Lenton wants you up at the headquarters, and he wants Saphira to be put into full combat gear; I guess Rankin saw something on his scouting run that's got the Admiral in a bit of a panic, sir.' Carter elaborated.  
'Right.' Eragon said, mentally nudging Saphira, who reached out to try and pull Eragon against her so she could sleep a while longer.

_Saphira! This is no time to be trying to sleep in; Lenton wants you in full combat gear._ Eragon said in exasperation as he stepped out of range of Saphira's questing foreclaw.  
She roused when he said this, yawned wide, and grunted in bad tempered irritation.  
'Whoever. Is responsible for waking me up. On my day off. Is going to die. Like a _dog._' She promised flatly, a cloud of black smoke trailing from her nostrils, and her tail twitching.  
'That's the spirit.' Gregs said, stumbling up, looking very hang-dog, and about as pleased as Saphira at the early start.  
The rest of the crew was staggering out of the barracks, variously yawning, stretching, scratching or pulling on various articles of clothing or fastening them.  
'I'll be back.' Eragon said, as the whole crew began helping with the task of outfitting Saphira in her armour.

* * *

'Good, that's everyone.' Lenton said. He looked grim, as did the other captains. And it appeared all of the ones presently at the covert were in attendance, including Rankin, who appeared to have been injured, judging by the bandage around his thigh, which was blood-stained.

Judging by his proximity to Lenton, Eragon could already take an educated guess at the news, and he felt a hard ball of anxiety coalesce in his gut.  
'What's this all about?' Noelfavrel asked from beside Eragon.

'I dare say you already realise, gentlemen;' Lenton said, speaking to the room at large, 'we have been celebrating too soon. Captain Rankin has just returned from a flight over the coast; he was able to slip past their borders, and caught a look at what that damned Corsican has been up to. You may see for yourselves.' Lenton finished, gesturing to a piece of paper in the middle of his desk, smudged with dirt and bloodstains that didn't obscure an elegantly drafted diagram in Rankin's precise hand.

Eragon felt a sinking feeling as he regarded what looked like on first inspection to be a house with massive beams sticking out the sides.

'What's it for?' Chenery said, turning around. 'I thought he already had boats?'  
'Perhaps it'll be clearer if I explained he had dragons carrying them above the ground.' Rankin said.

Eragon felt the ball of anxiety solidify into heady battle-fever.  
'How many of these transports did you count?' He asked, oddly calm.  
'I counted five, but I'd bet money he had at least double that number.' Rankin replied bitterly, and for once, Eragon found himself in complete agreement with Rankin's sentiment.  
'We're not certain how many men he will have in each-'  
'Sir, I beg your pardon; may I ask, how long are these vessels?' Laurence asked, interrupting. 'And is this to scale?'  
'To my eye, yes,' Rankin said. 'The one I saw in midair had two Reapers to a side, and room to spare; perhaps two hundred feet from front to back.'  
'They will be three-deckers inside, then,' Laurence said grimly. 'If they sling hammocks, he can fit as many as two thousand men apiece, for a short journey, if he means to carry no provisions.'

Eragon swallowed at this.  
Twenty thousand men at the least.

For all they were in deep trouble, Eragon couldn't help but objectively admire Napoleon's gambit.  
It was tactically brilliant:  
Lure away as much of Britain's channel defences as possible to Trafalgar, using the French and Spanish navies as bait, and then launch an overwhelming aerial and ground assault against the weakened defences to land his army.  
They were outnumbered, outgunned, and they'd been outfoxed.

A murmur of alarm went around the room. Lenton said, 'Less than two hours to cross each way, even if he launches from Cherbourg, and he has sixty dragons or more.'  
'He could land fifty thousand men before midmorning, good God.' Said one of the captains, a man Eragon hadn't met, and only arrived recently.  
The same calculation was running through everyone's head.  
It was impossible not to look around the room and tally their own side: Roughly twenty captains, a good quarter of whom were the scout and courier captains whose dragons could do very little in combat.

'But surely the things must be hopeless to manage in the air, and can dragons carry such a weight?' Sutton asked, studying the design further.  
'Likely he has built them from light wood; he only needs them to last a day, after all, and they need not be watertight.' Laurence said. 'He only needs an easterly wind to carry him over; with that narrow framing, they will offer very little resistance. But they will be vulnerable in the air, and surely Mortiferus and Excidium are on the way back?'  
'Four days away at best, and Bonaparte must know that as well as do we,' Lenton said. 'He has spent nearly his entire fleet, and the Spanish navy also to buy himself freedom from their presence; he is not going to waste the chance.' the obvious truth of this was felt at once, and a grim silence fell upon the room.

'Well, I guess that's it then. So far as I can see, it isn't a matter of stopping them or forcing them to retreat, it's a question of how many o' them can we make die!' Jack Dyer exclaimed, standing from his seat.  
This got a chorus of grim agreement from the assembled, but they all quieted as Lenton looked down at his desk, then stood up, uncharacteristically slow; Eragon noticed, not for the first time, how thin and grey his hair was, and how tired he looked.

'Gentlemen,' Lenton said formally, 'the wind is in the north today, so we may have a little grace if he chooses to wait for a better wind. All of our scouts will be flying in shifts off Cherbourg; we will have an hour's warning at least. I do not need to tell you we're outnumbered; we can only do our best, and delay if we cannot prevent.'

'And make damn sure it's crowded when we get to hell.' Jack said, caressing the butt of one of his pistols.

'We will need every middle and heavy-weight beast on independent duty; your task will be to destroy those transports. Chenery, Warren, you will take mid-wing positions in Lily's formation, and two scouts will take the wing-tip positions. Captain Harcourt, undoubtedly Napoleon will reserve some dragons for defence, it is your's and Murtagh's task to keep those defenders occupied as best you can.'

'Yes sir,' Harcourt replied.  
'They won't know what hit them.' Promised Murtagh.  
The others nodded silent agreement.  
Lenton took a deep breath and rubbed his face. 'There is nothing else to be said, gentlemen; go to your preparations.'

* * *

Eragon walked back into the clearing with a grim look, which was mirrored by Noelfavrel.  
Saphira and Galzra already knew, but Eragon called a formal meeting of everyone and delivered the news.

He felt a surprising stab of pride at how they took it:  
A tightened jaw here, narrowed eyes there, and stiffened spines all around.  
The crew was as ready to reap a bloody toll out of the French as he was.

Saphira was already outfitted in her armour, and harness both, and looked truly intimidating, even while the ground crew went about checking and double-checking everything.  
'Gideon, how much ammo have you got ready?' Eragon asked.

When Gideon didn't respond, Eragon took one look around the clearing, remembered Rankin's injury, and mentally slapped himself.  
He located Arya, filling in Nasuada and Islanzadí, with his mind, then put Gregs on notice he was in charge until he returned, before he payed a quiet visit to Thorn's clearing to find Angela, before he, in company with the witch and her ever-present werecat companion, headed towards the covert headquarters.

* * *

When Eragon and Angela finally arrived at the clearing, they were in time to see Rankin limping out of it.  
Laurence was also there, glaring after the man with a look of hatred and disgust.  
Arya, Hollin and Gideon were crouched by Levitas's head.

The little Winchester drew a shuddering breath, and looked around in vain with half-blind eyes.  
'Where is my Captain? Where did he go? Why did he go?' He asked in a pained whisper, distressed.  
'He doesn't care about you Levitas.' Hollin said bitterly. 'He never gave a damn about you, and likely he thought you'd just died then, I certainly did for a moment.'  
Levitas gave a snort of distress, and settled as Arya gently laid her hand on his jowl.  
'We're here. We will help you.' She said gently, and beckoned Eragon and Angela over.  
'I need you to lend me your strength, we have to preserve it, but we must save him.' She said.  
'Heal what is life-threatening.' Angela said, setting down a basket of her own concoctions.  
'The surgeons said it was no use.' Hollin said bitterly. 'What can you do?'  
'I can do a sight more than they can; now keep him talking. If he's talking, he's not dead.' Angela replied briskly, as Arya began to croon a spell to replenish Levitas's supply of blood and repair the damage to the arteries in his side and flank.  
Eragon knelt beside her and offered his own strength.

'I'm sorry boss, Hollin said he needed a hand, and when I saw him like this, I couldn't leave.' Gideon said.  
'You don't have to apologise to me.' Eragon replied. 'A dragon's life is more important to me than knowing how much ammunition we have on hand.  
'Enough to last two months hard fighting.' Gideon answered immediately.  
Eragon nodded, then swayed a little as Levitas raised his head and nearly knocked Eragon over in the process.  
'Sorry.' He said, shying back.  
'Don't move, let me see if I can't repair your eyesight.' Eragon said, gently guiding Levitas's head back to the ground.

'Do you need anything?' Laurence asked from where he was still standing.  
'No, go and see to your own affairs captain, or let Admiral Lenton know what we're doing.' Arya replied, breaking off her spell. 'Angela, I've healed the most life-threatening injuries, are you able to-'

'Don't leave. Please, don't leave.' Levitas said, his distress now more pronounced.  
'I wasn't going to.' Arya said gently, coming to kneel by Levitas's head once more, heedless of the dark blood that had pooled around the little dragon as Angela unceremoniously cut away the bandages the surgeons had swathed the terrible wounds in his side with.

Angela tutted disapprovingly.  
'Well, you certainly took a beating out there.' She said bluntly. 'Fortunately for you, I've got a lot of experience dealing with grievous injuries.' She added brightly, and fished an old rum bottle, filled with a viscous, olive-green concoction from her basket. 'This is going to sting a bit, but it'll help these gouges along to healing, and with a little luck you won't scar too badly.'

'You shouldn't be here Eragon, you should be seeing to Saphira, there's a battle to be fought soon.' Levitas said to Eragon, sounding exhausted.  
'Do you mind if I take Gideon?' Eragon asked.  
'No, just, please, let Lady Arya stay.'  
'I am here.' Arya said gently, caressing Levitas's neck softly.  
Hollin soaked a rag in a bucket beside him, and offered it to Levitas, who parted his jaws slightly and allowed him to squeeze a little out for him to drink.  
Eragon gave Levitas an encouraging smile, then stood, closely followed by Gideon.

They started back towards Saphira's clearing, but after they exited the small clearing, they found Laurence waiting for them.  
'Mr Bromsson, I'd like you to come and report this to Admiral Lenton with me.' He said it formally, but there was a grave look in his eyes as he said it.  
'I'll see you back at the clearing boss, I've got to finish up on my latest batch of incendiaries, and maybe tweak them a bit to be a bit more effective against these transports.' Gideon said, before slipping away.

* * *

'It's a selfless thing that Lady Arya and Mrs. Angela are doing, but whatever are we going to do about Rankin?' Lenton asked as he poured himself a generous glass of port upon hearing Laurence's report. 'It's a damn sorry time for that bastard to be coming out of harness; we've got a Winchester hatching unexpectedly at Chatham, and not a man worthy in range and willing to be put to a Winchester, and him having made himself such a big damn hero bringing us back this warning we'll have a yowl from his family and question in parliament likely as not if I don't at least offer him the chance.'

'I would rather see a dragon dead than in his hands.' Laurence and Eragon said in perfect synchronisation, then looked at one another a moment startled.

'Sir, if you want a man who will be a credit to the service, send Mr Hollin; I would vouch for him with my life.' Laurence quickly put in.  
'What, your ground crew master?' Lenton frowned, but looked thoughtful. 'That is a thought, if you think him suited to the task; he could not feel that he was hurting his career if by such a step. Not a gentleman, I suppose.'  
'No, sir, unless by gentleman you mean a man of honour rather than breeding,' Laurence said.  
'Before we go too far, what think you, Captain Bromsson? I know your gunner has been at the same game as Mr. Hollin. What think you of the whole?'

Eragon stood there silently, pretending to think hard while he reached out to Gideon.

_Problems, boss-man?_ Gideon asked after he let Eragon into his mind.  
Eragon briefly relayed the development. _Do you want me to put your name forward? _Eragon asked,_ I'll vouch for you, and I'm pretty sure Saphira will as well.  
_Gideon was quiet for a moment, then Eragon felt dark amusement bubble up in the young gunner.  
_Boss, Hollin was looking out for Levitas before I started talking to him. He deserves this chance more than I do, and even if it were a chance at a Celestial or a Kazilik, I'd still give it to Hollin; besides, doing this, Hollin cock-blocks Rankin. And I'm happy to just sit back and laugh quietly about that and wait for another chance to come along._

'No, I have no objection, and I'm sure Gideon wouldn't begrudge Hollin the honour.' Eragon replied with certainty.  
'Well Laurence, we're not so stiff necked here that something like breeding factors into our decisions too much,' Lenton said, 'if we're not all dead or captured by the time the egg hatches at any rate.'

* * *

It was nearly sunset.  
Angela stood and stretched.  
She was covered in near-black dragon-blood and she looked worn.

'Well, I wish all my patients were as patient and well behaved as you were Levitas,' she said kindly, wiping her hands on her homespun dress, and bending to pet the little Winchester. 'Give it a week or two, and you should be able to fly short distances, until then I think it for the best if you just rest and take it easy.'

'Well, that is excellent to hear.'  
Angela turned around slowly, putting her hands on her hips.  
'Turn around, and get the hell out of my sight.' she said flatly.  
'Excuse me?' Asked Rankin coolly. 'I am Levitas's captain, you are a civilian allowed here at the pleasure of the Admiral.  
'I just spent the past six hours fixing the results of your cruelty, jackass, I'm not about to let you undo all my good work. Now leave.'  
'How _dare_ you, you…curly-haired slattern!' Rankin retorted.  
'I really do not care for your tone, _sir_.' Angela replied.

'Angela.'  
The two turned to see Levitas, standing shakily.  
'Good, I hope you are w-' Rankin began  
'Get out of my sight.' Levitas said coldly.  
'What did you just-?' Spluttered Rankin.  
'I said: get out of my sight. You left me to die; all I ever showed you was loyalty and affection, and all I ever wanted from you was some affection. And when I lay here dying, you were off doing who knows what, and had to be dragged here.' Levitas said. 'I'm not taking orders from you anymore. I'm going to take Lady Arya as my Captain, and I hope you never get another dragon and you die alone. Like I nearly did.' So saying, Levitas limped slowly, and painfully from the clearing.

Angela turned back to Rankin with a steely gleam in her eyes and cracked her knuckles.  
Following this preparation, Angela launched into a tirade:

'You deserved that, asshole. And so much more; if I could, I'd introduce you to a few fellows I know who take anger to levels you couldn't imagine, they don't take the sort of shit you were giving Levitas well either; you're a selfish, arrogant, outdated anachronism without the decency to spare a kind word to the dying. If you ever end up offered a dragon, I will poison the meal you have directly after hearing the news. I hope whatever you have that passes for a conscience keeps you up at night unable to sleep, tormenting you with what you did to him-'

She went on like this for a while, adding steadily more profanity, at one point insinuating that one of his ancestors must have mated with a Ra'zac for him to be such a cold-hearted rat-bastard.

'And lastly-' without further ado, Angela planted a solid kick in Rankin's groin, followed by a knee to the face and a sharp rabbit punch to the solar plexus, which knocked him out cold.  
The beatdown happened so quickly, that Rankin was unsure what had actually happened when he eventually came around the next evening, and try as he might to find one, there were no witnesses to what Angela had done.

**I've wanted to do that for a long time.  
****You've all been waiting for it.  
****Go back and read it again to confirm you're not dreaming.  
****Someone from Alagaësia just physically and verbally kicked Rankin's ass.**

**If you can spot the anachronism in this chapter, you get a special mention.  
****Hint: it's a line from a song with bagpipes in it.  
****And another special mention if you catch the Warhammer 40k reference.  
****Hint: Angela made the reference, and it involves a joke-chapter of Space Marines.**

**The _Hitchhiker _reference was The Question to life the universe and everything being 42 as well.  
If you haven't read that book yet, I strongly recomend it. Douglas Adams was a comic genius.**

**Now, thanks for this time around:**

**For Reviewing, I'd like to thank: Hideout Writer, soldier of knowledge, Culebra del Sol and John Christopher L. Ticyado.**

**I enjoyed that immensely, 'til next time:**

**No One-liners!**


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter XXXXIII

Once More, Unto the Breach!

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One.**

'Captain, it's time.'  
Eragon snapped from his waking dream and noted how every tree ringing the clearing was leaning away from the first light of dawn slightly.

The wind was in the east.

'Alright, wake everyone, and get them to mount up.' Eragon said in reply to Greg's message, mentally reviewing the wards he'd placed around Noelfavrel, Saphira and the others.

_Saphira._ Eragon said.  
The sapphire dragoness stirred, then stood, yawning wide.  
_Whatever happens today, we will face it together._ Saphira said.  
_Agreed._ Eragon replied. _Fly well, and if you can get us close to a transport so we can hit it with Gideon's incendiaries, we'll do fine._

The incendiaries Gideon had mentioned he'd been preparing had had iron barbs hastily welded onto them so they would dig into soft wood, giving a better chance that the flammable liquid within would splash across the wood, and the hot metal would ignite it.

As the crew waited, Saphira reared back and shook herself, trying to loose the harness.  
Satisfied it would stand the rigours of combat, she settled again.  
'I'm ready; let's go see if the French are.' She said, and placed Eragon at her shoulders while the crew scrambled up the harness.

Eragon saw over by the barracks that Arya was having a reassuring word with Levitas, and that Gideon was beside the little Winchester, hand feeding him small chunks of still-steaming beef.

'We'll see you in the sky, sir.' Noelfavrel called from Galzra's back.  
He had a repeating rifle slung over his shoulder, two repeater pistols on his hips, along with a cutlass and a bandolier, undoubtedly full of reloads.  
Galzra still only had the saddle Brom had made Saphira, so Noelfavrel would be fairly safe from boarders.  
'Fly well.' Eragon replied simply.

Eragon was just in time to see Arya quit the clearing, then recalled she'd made arrangements to fly with Laurence and Temeraire to lend her support to them.

He felt the familiar bunching of Saphira's muscles beneath him as Galzra cleared the treetops, and then Saphira was airborne as well, while Immortalis, Messoria and Dulcia came aloft from their own clearings.

* * *

Back in the clearing, Levitas looked after the departing dragons with an anxious expression.

'It's no use worrying, they'll either win, or things are going to get very sticky when the French land.' Gideon said.  
'And what are you going to do if they find us?' Levitas asked, hesitantly.

Gideon motioned to a rifle leaning against the barracks.  
'I'm a good enough shot to keep them occupied for a while.' Gideon assured the little Winchester, then went and hacked a portion of meat from the dead cow's shoulder.  
'Now eat up, you need your strength.' Gideon said encouragingly.

* * *

'Jack, we're in trouble, aren't we?' Jinx asked.  
'We're up shit's creek without a paddle; short of a fucking _miracle_, all we can do is try and land them where we can bottle them up and starve them into surrendering.' Jack replied, shrugging on a heavy great coat, then settling a tricorne over his bandanna.

With his cutlass and brace of repeaters, he looked something like a pirate captain.

'We're ready to go Cap.' Called Lieutenant Wallace Baxter.  
Without prompting, Jinx picked Jack up and deposited him on his back.

Jack locked his carabiners onto Jinx's harness then looked around at his men, both new and old.  
'I'm not gonna lie to you, we're in deep trouble. The best we can hope for is a pyrrhic victory. But if you think that just 'cause it's hopeless, that you can just sit there and blubber, I'll throw you off myself. We're are gonna make these French sons-of-bitches regret the day they ever decided to come here. We will strangle them with their own, living guts! Now, load your guns and ready your swords, 'cause we're going to _kick some ass!' _Jack finished shouting, and his rally speech had it's effect of firing his men up, ready to fight until they died or dropped.

'Nice speech, I give that one a seven out of ten. I think I preferred the one you gave at Port Royal.' Jinx said.  
'Just get us up there.' Jack replied, playfully punching Jinx on the shoulder.

* * *

Soon, the air above the covert was filled with dragons, all headed out over the channel.  
Every human face was grim and drawn, while in the older dragons was a glint of excitement, tempered by a lifetime of experience fighting, and in the younger dragons was a more pronounced excitement at their first real battle.

In the eyes of Saphira and Thorn there burned a terrible, incandescent anger, and they were more than prepared to give free samples to those who opposed them.  
They'd managed to negotiate positions on the leading edge of the British force, along with Temeraire, Obversaria and Jinx.

The morning wind was cold, sharp and damp, and their passage was so swift the shriek of the wind carried all noise with it, leaving only the creak of the harness, the occasional metallic grinding of Saphira's armour rubbing together and the leathery snap of her wings.

Already, they could see the aerial armada the French had ranged against them.

'Captain, I make twelve transports out there.' Teel said.  
'And I'd wager they've got at least sixty dragons.' Gregs put in.  
Eragon felt the battle-fever he'd felt since the day before surge white hot, flooding his veins with adrenaline.  
'It's not so bad, the Varden were outnumbered twenty to one at the Burning Plains.' Eragon said, more to try and convince himself they had a ghost of a chance.  
'Your Empire didn't have Boney pulling the strings though.' Teel observed grimly.  
'They could have Angvard commanding them, for all I care. They will all burn.' Saphira replied.

'The logistics of feeding so many dragons must be a nightmare.' Observed Ford from further down Saphira's back. 'This is an all-or-nothing gambit; if we can hold these jokers up long enough, we can bleed them dry.'  
The thought seemed a desperate hope to Eragon but it was something at least, and he could see it steadied the others.  
'Just keep yourselves warm.' Eragon advised, flexing his fingers in his gauntlets to warm them a little.

* * *

Soon, they were in range.  
The French had formed a loose line-of-battle, the larger dragons above, with the smaller ones beneath in a darting, unpredictable mass, which Eragon, through Saphira's eyes had already picked several points of weakness from.  
They were forming a wall between the British and the transports and their bearers, who were all for the most part labouring under the unaccustomed weight.

Saphira roared her challenge, but refrained from breathing fire for fear of scorching any who were close to her, and somewhere down the line Eragon could hear Thorn answering, and the high, reedy voice of Ornthrond, he and Gringlok having forsaken their night watch since learning of the impending battle to rest as best they could.  
But the war-cry proved infectious, and soon, up and down the length of the line, men and dragons alike had taken it up.

Saphira had come out in front of the main mass already as the flags ran up the mains on Obversaria's back:  
_Engage the enemy more closely_, the flags signalled.  
Eragon took a deep, shuddering breath and drew his bow, knocking an arrow as he did and crouched down as Saphira put on a burst of speed in an attempt to feint through the lines.  
The battle had begun.

* * *

'Jinx, you know what to do.' Called Jack.  
Gone was his bombastic, flamboyant tone, replaced by calm, clinical professionalism.  
There was a battle to be fought.

In reply, Jinx took up a position in front of Rosarius.  
'Ready all guns!' Jack called, drawing his own repeater and cocking it, just as a few answering metallic clicks registered to his ears.  
'Hall, signal to Rosarius, _follow on._' Jack ordered. 'Scandland's got enough brains to know what I mean.'

An answering signal was quick in coming, and just in time as they'd just come into accurate range of a pair of French light-weights which had come together as if to bar their way at a transport a little way behind them.

'Wait for it,' Jack said.  
A full three beats later, flying straight at the pair of light-weights, dodging now and then to avoid any other dragon that might engage them and Jack deemed them in sufficient range.  
'Fire!' He called, and immediately afterward the single volley of five-a-side had taken the two French dragon's head on and to Jack's satisfaction, the Lieutenant he'd sniped was already falling towards the channel, and seconds later, Jinx had dived, allowing Rosarius to bull right through the lightweights.

'Alright, pull up and let's get back to her!' Jack called.  
Jinx complied, pulling out of the dive and angling up towards where Rosarius was already bullying a large Pêcheur Ráye on the port side of the transport near the stern.

* * *

Winning through the line hadn't gone as smoothly as Eragon had hoped.  
A fluky shot from one of the French riflemen on one of the defending dragons had caught Ford in the throat, and despite the best efforts of Vanir, who'd reached the rifleman before Eragon could even undo his carabiners, had already died, and been thrown overboard, after Teel had appropriated his rifle and ammunition.  
But now they were through, and the only problem was Saphira was being harassed by a pair of lightweights who'd broken from the defensive line to follow them.

And apparently, one of them had a magician aboard.  
He was a persistent bastard as well, and even with Vanir's help he refused to do the decent thing and just _die.  
_'Finally.' Muttered Eragon, as he saw a man fall from the back of one of the dragons, his cut straps flapping after him like a broken belt at his waist.

Saphira had managed not thirty seconds previously to lose her second pursuer, and had looped back around until she was over the transport she'd chosen to target.  
Before the carriers could react, she'd dropped atop it, and shattered a hole in the roof, before she filled the hole with fire, before fanning her wings again and letting the wind pick her up.  
The cheeky and audacious move had been so unexpected that the belated volley didn't even come close to them.

Smoke was streaming from the top of the transport, but Eragon wasn't sure what damage they'd truly done.  
'I think we'd better move onto another, no use sticking around to see if that one goes to kingdom come in a big bang.' Gregs suggested, indicating another target, a little further ahead than their current victim.  
Eragon indicated Greg's suggested victim, and after flaming one of the carrier's wings, Saphira complied, leaving the transport yawing wildly as the crew cast off the chains holding the dragon to the transport and headed back to France.  
_They can afford to as well._ Eragon thought bitterly, reviewing the overwhelming advantage in numbers the French had.

* * *

Fabe Ormundsson had been in service to Galbatorix's army for nigh on twenty years as a spell caster.  
He'd thought this battle against the barbaric and uneducated British would be a massacre, as the fools considered magic superstition and were too proud to alter their mode of thinking to answer any unexpected development that fell outside their experience.

Oh, one or two of them might, but overall they were proud idiots.

So it was with some concern that Fabe and his fellows found themselves unable for the most part to break the minds of the British or their dragons.  
He gritted his teeth and focused on one Yellow Reaper which was attempting to savage another of it's kind bearing one of the French transports, and once again was infuriatingly turned aside.

He went full-force at the dragon again, but this time encountered something else.  
An ancient conscience filled with a terrible anger and an awful, wailing grief that Fabe felt he was drowning in.  
_Fool._ Growled an inhumanly deep voice.  
This was the last thing Fabe Ormundsson ever heard before his mind was snuffed like a candle.

* * *

Glaedr paid the death of the Imperial spell caster all the attention he'd pay a fly:  
Absolutely none.

Bereft of a body, and with no means to actively aid in the destruction of Galbatorix's allies, he was doing what he could to aid in the battle:  
Namely, robbing the French of the arcane support Napoleon had begged from Galbatorix.  
There were one or two talented fellows among them, but they were no match for _him._

_He_ had been ancient when their grandparents had been conceived, and had been a past master of mental warfare when _their_ grandparents had been conceived.  
Now after so many months of idleness, this sweet release of battle was a relief.  
All his anger at Galbatorix, over the war, and over Oromis was finally being put to use.  
And, much as he denied it, he was taking savage pleasure in venting his frustration on these upstart human mages.

* * *

Thorn hunched his shoulders in sympathy as the dragon Lily had just doused with her acid writhed in agony.  
He was aware of Murtagh trying to get a bead on one of it's eyes to end it's suffering, but before he could, there was a pistol shot, and the dragon fell away.  
The dragon's captain had climbed out along her neck and shot her in the back of the neck to end her suffering.

Fortunately, he had no time to dwell on the kill as a Chanson-De-Guerre was attempting to get close enough and stay close enough to get boarders across, along with the aid of two Poux-De-Ciels.  
The three French dragons were having little luck due to Thorn's superior agility and his ability to hover, but he was having to employ some of the aerial acrobatics Saphira had taught him to stop the three dragons from succeeding in the goal of boarding him, and it left all his crew save for Murtagh hanging on for dear life.

'Thorn! Stop, you're battering us to pieces, we'll make a fight of it.' Kaleen shouted at the top of her voice.  
Thorn pivoted midair and breathed fire over one of the Poux-De-Ciels, then rammed the second one, claws extended, sending the two lightweights flying with their tails between their legs, and the dead bodies already dropping from the flamed Ciel.

This out of the way, Thorn turned to try and ram the Chanson-De-Guerre, but the big dragon had already retreated, undoubtedly his captain had seen the fate of the pair of Ciels and was not willing to join them.  
Thorn snorted in contempt, and then spied a Pêcheur Couronné bullying a pair of Greylings a little ways down the line, casually searing an enemy Pascal's Blue as he barrelled at the French middleweight.

* * *

Jack cheered wildly as he saw one of the transports burst into splinters.  
Saphira had spat fire through it's roof near to the start of the battle, and now it was raining dead bodies and splintered wood, and several more dead bodies were falling from it's carriers, while the dragons themselves also turned for France, many with very big shards of wood sticking out of flanks or sides.

Up and down the line, the cheering spread, while cries of horror went up among the French.  
A Roi-De-Vitesse flung himself at Rosarius in a vain attempt to get men to her back while she battered at her own victim.

She'd already bludgeoned one of the bearers into retreating, and had cracked the beam, and was now focussed on trying to break it to further exhaust the other three dragons.  
She was becoming an increasingly popular target, and so far Jinx had had to encourage three lightweights to take a hike, while another two had been shot into doing the same by his riflemen.

Jack held no confidence in their ability to do the same to even a middleweight, considering Jinx had already taken several minor scratches.  
Fortunately, the enemy riflemen appeared to be myopic, because any shots that had hit their opposites had been flesh-wounds.

Jinx slammed into the Vitesse and dug his claws into it's shoulder and rump while Jack, Wallace and the first two riflemen fired past his head with a withering tirade.  
After taking a bite out of the Vitesse's bicep, Jinx cut loose, then growled in frustration as a Ciel swooped away from Rosarius.  
Jack didn't even need to look too closely to see the boarders struggling with Rosarius's topmen.  
'Fuck.' Jack swore, switching his depleted block for a fresh one.

'I count eight boarders Captain.' Wallace reported.  
Jack slammed his repeater shut.  
'Jinx! Take up a holding pattern, Wallace, keep those fuckers off me, I'm going to show you just what a fucking rifleman can do with one of these things!' Roared Jack, his frayed temper breaking.

He lined up one of the French boarders, waited for his British counterpart to stagger, then fired, and saw the man's head snap sideways in a burst of blood.  
'One!' Shouted Jinx.  
Another British aviator fell dead, and the Frenchman who dealt the blow followed a moment later.  
'Two!' Jinx called, dodging around a Ciel that had noticed them.  
'Three!' Wallace crowed.  
'Four!' Jinx called as another Frenchmen that had been about to take a shot at Scandland's First Lieutenant fell to the side with a blood-burst from the side of his head.  
'Five!' Another French aviator that had been duelling the Lieutenant fell dead.  
'_Six, motherfucker!_' shouted Jack as he blew the back of the last French boarder's head out.

'Nice! Now a little help would be nice!' Called Wallace, before stabbing a boarder through the belly.

Jack drew his pistols and bellowed an incoherent reply, standing from his kneeling position.  
'Plenty more where that came from, you cross-eyed, puff-throated, green skinned, _bastards_!' Jack bellowed, and this was quickly followed by a seventh consecutive headshot, followed by what appeared to the Frenchmen to be a pirate captain with a really big cutlass, a really big gun a truly insane snarl and a look in his eyes that could melt steel come charging to the aid of his men.

At least one of them jumped.  
He survived, and at the end of the war, returned home to France, eventually got a dragon of his own, fell in love and ended up with three children.

His compatriots who thought they'd be able to take Jack and his crew weren't so lucky.  
They also went over board, but most of them did so dead or dying.

* * *

Saphira roared in frustration.

She'd managed to damage another transport with the aid of Gideon's incendiaries, and it was currently alight beyond saving,-an airborne oven so to speak,- but now she found herself squaring off against a Poux-De-Ciel, a Roi-De-Vitesse, a Pêcheur Ráye and an Honnuer d'Or.  
She understood that they were shaken by the sudden explosion of that one transport she'd set on fire before, but this was just slightly ridiculous.

The Ciel made a move to take a flanking position so boarders could come across while the Vitesse went for her throat.  
The latter met her talons, the boarders from the boarders were met by pinpoint-accurate arrow-fire from Vanir.

_Hold on!_ She called to the crew, then hovered momentarily, actually managing to fly backwards to gain some room for a moment, then she beat up, still hovering, then turning her head slightly, lined up the Ciel.  
Satisfied the crew were prepared, she flicked her tail underneath her, folded her wings, and flipped right over, hearing the startled cries of the crew and the hysterical screams of the surviving boarders only distantly.

The Ciel never knew what hit it.  
Saphira's armour-clad tail hit it in the middle of the neck and snapped it like a matchstick.  
The dragon gave a single strangled cry, then fell away.  
Saphira beat back into a hover, and was immediately rammed by the Ráye whom she bit on the shoulder and shook violently, before letting him go, squalling in pain, before clawing his side for good measure.

_Boom.  
_The sound made her look around.  
They were close to land, and already one of the transports had managed to land.

* * *

Glaedr took a moment to survey the situation objectively from as many points of view as he could.

From the insane-anger-hate-fear-berserker-fury of maverick-aviator-gunslinger-Dyer, to the tired-grey-fur-steel-eyed-Admiral-Lenton's weary-despair-anger, he realised that the French were verging on victory.

These British-proud-arrogant-newfound-allies needed a miracle.

And it appeared as if there was only one place they were going to get one of sufficient magnitude to turn the tide of the battle now…

* * *

'-And we must still try, or we would be leaving our friends to fight without us,' Temeraire said.

Arya felt an impotent anger burning in her heart as she surveyed the field.  
_Is this how Vrael felt at Dorú Areaba?_ She wondered to herself. _Helpless, at having all he'd strived for torn down by a tyrant?  
_She'd done all she could to aid Laurence, Temeraire and their crew, using her skill as an archer against the enemy riflemen, trading blows with borders, defending against the Imperial mages seeded through the armada,-though admittedly they'd gone silent remarkably quickly, and it puzzled Arya slightly,- and now it was revealed to be all for nought.

'Yes.' She heard Laurence reply bitterly.  
'We did all we could.' She said, laying a hand on Laurence's shoulder.

_Not quite._ Arya stiffened as she felt Glaedr's mind touch hers.  
'What was…' Laurence straightened.

Temeraire was looking towards one of the transports, and had drawn a deep, deep breath.  
Arya could feel the air resonating in the young dragon's chest, and just when she felt the resonance hit fever pitch, he opened his jaws and-  
There was no real way to describe it.  
The raw he'd produced had been less sound than _unrelenting force_.  
The transport had been wholly shattered, as if by cannon-fire or as if one of the great dragons of old-

_Was that you?_ Asked Arya in awe.  
_No._ Came the response.  
_Captain, excuse me, but you may wish to hold on. _Glaedr said, addressing Laurence directly. _Arya will explain momentarily, if you swear secrecy.  
_Laurence looked askance at Arya.  
'And so, here, and now, you stumble upon our greatest secret…' She said reluctantly.

* * *

'Laurence, I think I did that,' Temeraire said; sounding to himself more shocked than anything else.  
How long had he been capable of that?

_Yes, you did do that hatchling._ Said a voice in Temeraire's head, sounding vaguely like Thorn's only where Thorn's was a quiet rumble, this one was brass thunder.  
_Who are you?  
__At present, your instructor in the art of combat flying._ The voice replied.

Before Temeraire could ask anymore questions, Laurence was ordering the crew to action, and the new presence had given him a course of action to follow.  
He breathed deeply again, filling his lungs to capacity, and flying bellow the lip of the cliff, already heavyweights were gathering on high to try and stop him, but he felt the contempt of the presence in his head for their efforts.  
He exhaled, and another roar of pure force echoed forth and shattered the second transport.  
Swivelling his wings and throwing his weight into it, he turned quickly, and at Laurence's urging, headed straight for a bigger transport that was nearing landfall.

Suddenly, Lily, Saphira and Thorn were flying in a flanking formation.  
_Focus!_ Snapped the presence.

One of the heavyweights was diving for him, only to go into freefall as it forgot to beat it's wings, and there was Ornthrond, worrying it's head with his talons while squalling bloody murder at the top of his high, keening voice.

He roared again, and there was the gunshot sound of cracking wood, and the bigger transport gave a queer groan, and before he could prepare a second roar, the flags had changed, and suddenly, the French were slowly turning about to limp back to France.  
_Well done._ The presence said. _Soon I think, you and I will meet, but not just yet._ And the presence was gone, but Temeraire caught a glimpse of a huge clearing, a small hut and a wise-looking being that looked similar to Arya and Vanir, as well as an unaccountable sorrow.

* * *

Jack shook his head to clear his vision.  
Then he wiped his eyes, not quite believing.  
'Wallace, did one of those assholes hit me on the head?' He asked his first lieutenant.  
'Jack, you ain't dreaming mate, the bastards are retreating! That Temeraire kid just pulled some sort of magic that even Thorn and Saphira can't touch out of his arse! We beat 'em!' So saying he crowed victory, even as the transport Rosarius had been harassing made its own turn about.  
'We beat 'em.' Jack repeated, not quite believing, then grinned, sheathed his sword and gun, and grabbed Wallace in a bear hug and kissed him on both cheeks.  
'We fuckin' beat 'em!' He crowed, then joined Jinx's wild ululation as Wallace looked bemusedly at his commanding officer.

**Well, if you were wondering more about Temeraire and Laurence's part in the battle, it stayed pretty much the same.**

**And now, I've discovered the fundamental flaw in having so many original characters in one place for this sort of conclusion:  
****Giving them all something to do.**

**So, if this was a bit of a let-down, I apologise.  
****I did the best I could.**

**Next chapter is the epilogue, and from there…  
****Well, who knows?  
****I might dive straight into a sequel, I might try another Temeraire crossover with something else.  
****Or, I might try and finish another story of mine, I haven't decided yet.**

**Regarding the challenge I issued last chapter about those references:  
****It's still open, and another special mention, if you find the other reference to the anachronism in this chapter.  
****Also, a mention if you can pick the **_**Gears of War **_**and _Skyrim_**** references in this chapter.**

**In the meantime, I owe the following people thanks:**

**For reviewing, I'd like to thank: Hideout Writer, dragonshina and John Christopher L. Ticyado.**

'**til next time:**

**No One-liners!**


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter XXXXIV

Epilogue: Truths Among Friends

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One.**

_We're surrounded. _Eragon said.  
_I know._ Murtagh replied.  
_You have any idea how we're getting out of this one?  
__I've got an idea…  
__Suicide doesn't count as an idea.  
__How about-  
__We can't ask them to help, not without starting a riot, and Lenton would kill us if we did that.  
__Then suck it up and deal with it._ With that, Murtagh firmly shut his mind, and left Eragon to have his toes trodden on by the daughter of some British dignitary or other.

'You still with us?' Harcourt asked Murtagh.  
'Yes, Eragon is having his toes broken at present.' Murtagh replied.

The aviators were sufficiently used to Eragon and Murtagh communicating telepathically now that they neither commented, nor asked about it.

Harcourt smiled slightly.  
'Well, I'm sure he'd enjoy some company.' Harcourt said, and gave Murtagh a small smile. 'Care to dance?' She asked, standing with all the dignity of a queen.

* * *

_Enjoying yourself?  
__Shut up, at least she's a better dancer than that girl you were dancing with. How're your toes by the way?_ Murtagh asked snidely._ Besides, how could I refuse?  
_Eragon prudently didn't answer.

'Murtagh is enjoying himself, I take it?' Sutton asked with a smirk.  
'More than I am.' Eragon said, flexing his toes, then took an appreciative sip of wine that wasn't half-vinegar.

It was six days after the battle, and they were all,-for the most part,-happy to be guests of honour at the covert in London for a ball.  
He spied another young lady and her chaperone lurking just outside of the range he'd decided it was a bad idea to try and evade an encounter, so he said with forced casualness:

'If you'll excuse me, I'll be back in a moment, I think it might be an idea to check with Angela as to how Levitas is fairing.'  
With this, and a few nods of understanding from the other captains present at the table, he stood and quickly quit the pavilion, sighing gratefully as he stepped out into the cool night air, listening with some appreciation to the small band of musicians who'd decided to play for the dragons rather than the less-interested crowd of functionaries within the pavilion itself.

_Damn you, Eragon! _Murtagh called, and Eragon was treated to a few moments of Murtagh having to relinquish Harcourt's company for his own former dance partner.  
_Have fun._ Eragon replied, then severed the connection and chuckled darkly.

* * *

'Two sevens.'  
'Three nines.'  
'Read 'em and _weep_: Full house.' Gideon said triumphantly, to a mixture of indignation and accusations of cheating.  
'Search me.' Gideon said, extending his arms to submit to a search by Angela.  
After a few moments, the witch straightened.  
'He doesn't have anything.' She confirmed.

It had been a productive evening.  
So far, he was ten pounds better off than when he'd started this game of poker, and no one had yet cottoned on to how he'd stood to be doing so well.  
He'd deliberately let a few of the hands he could've won slip by to avoid rousing suspicion, and if he kept this up, he stood to clean them all out.

'And what might you all be doing?' Asked Eragon as he entered the clearing.  
'Enjoying a few rounds of off-duty poker.' Jack Dyer said from where he sat opposite Gideon.  
'Ah.' Eragon said, and for a moment, Gideon felt a chill creep down his spine at the thought of The Boss spilling his little secret.  
'Well, don't mind me, I just came to see if Levitas is doing alright.'  
'Oh, very well indeed, and I must thank you and Saphira again for agreeing to bring me.' Levitas said from where he lay, still swathed in bandages, to the side of the small table the poker players had arranged, watching the game with interest.

He'd insisted on being brought along, despite Angela's admonishing him it would be better if he remained behind at the covert.  
But, even she'd relented when she saw the distress the thought of being parted from Arya and the others had caused him.

'Is Lady Arya alright?' Levitas asked.  
'She's fine,' Eragon assured the Winchester. 'Last I saw she was speaking with Temeraire; apparently he wanted to know something regarding Saphira's former teacher.'

Levitas nodded in acceptance.  
Since he'd parted company with Rankin, he'd at first been rather possessive of Arya.  
Which had become inconvenient when she was forced to make a visit to the admiralty and had had to enlist Galzra's service to get there.  
She'd managed to convince Levitas that she hadn't meant anything by it, but had told him in no uncertain terms that that did not mean that he could monopolise her.  
As it stood though, this hadn't become a problem, what with Gideon, Angela, Vanir, the other dragons to keep him company.

_Eragon, I think it might be time to explain to Laurence in full. _Glaedr said.  
'Alright, carry on, and have a good evening.' Eragon said with a nod, then headed for Temeraire's clearing, noting that Saphira was already there.

* * *

When Eragon entered the clearing, he was surprised to also find Sir Edward Howe there, along with Laurence, Temeraire and Arya, as well as Saphira, who was eyeing the chest Eragon had transferred Glaedr's eldunarì in like a miser eyeing a stray piece of gold.

'Ah, Captain Bromsson, good to see you again, enjoying yourself, I hope?' He asked.  
'Now that I don't have anyone chasing me for a dance, yes.' Eragon replied, then noted that the lights of the pavilion had been dimmed, evidently the ball had been closer to it's conclusion than he'd imagined.  
'Well, I was just leaving, but perhaps we may be able to talk some time in the near future.' Sir Edward siad, then continued on his way out of the clearing.

'What was all that about?' Eragon asked, watching the naturalist leave.  
'It just so happens I am not an Imperial after all,' Temeraire said. 'I am in fact a Celestial, but Sir Edward didn't know that I'd develop the ruff and tendrils until I matured, and the roar I used at Dover is called the _Divine Wind_.' He explained in a rush.  
Eragon blinked at this intelligence, more nonplussed than surprised.  
'Okay.' He said at length, then rubbed his head against the heel of his palm. 'I suppose we owe you an explanation regarding what touched your mind near the end of the battle.' Eragon said, steeling himself for a very tough sell.

'Indeed, Lady Arya mentioned something regarding one of your greatest secrets and a dragon's soul, but she never said anything specific.' Laurence replied.  
'Unfortunately, unless you both swear not to reveal this information to anyone without our express consent, that's all you're going to know.' Arya said implacably.  
'Oh, very well, what must I say?' Temeraire asked, apparently more eager to know just what they were on about than worried about the fact he wouldn't be able to discuss it openly.

Laurence hesitated for a minute, briefly wrestled with his curiosity, then yielded to being tutored the necessary phrase.  
Having sworn their silence, Eragon briefly rehashed the powers of the Alagaësian dragons, as well as Galbatorix's rise to power.

'…that said, many of the dragons that fell during the fall…they're still alive, but are the king's captives.' Eragon said.  
'What?' Asked Laurence in astonishment.  
'In fact, Glaedr, Saphira's master whom Thorn slew also still lives on in the same fashion.' Arya said.  
'I think the night air might've gotten to you.' Laurence mused.  
_We're serious, Captain._ Saphira said, then extended her reach to encompass Temeraire as well. _Within each of us, next to our real hearts is a gem-like object of the same composition as our scales; it is our 'heart of hearts' or 'eldunarí' in the ancient language. It is colourless, and should we die it dissolves; however, should we wish to, we can disgorge our consciences, our souls…our very beings into it, and live on beyond the destruction of our bodies, but at the price of being virtual prisoners once we have done so. It is one of the reasons some dragons chose never to disgorge there heart of hearts another, is that if we chose to while we are young, our minds will grow no further._ Saphira explained.

While she'd been talking, Arya had been proofing the area against those who might accidentally overhear, or deliberately seek to.

'So…Glaedr had disgorged this…heart of hearts of his… and so he survived beyond the death of his body.  
_I did, and for a long while I wished I had followed Oromis into the void._ Glaedr said, then said something privately to Arya, who reverently placed the chest Saphira had been guarding on the ground and opened the locks with a whispered spell she and Eragon had devised.  
The lid swung open silently to reveal the dusky gold gem-like structure that was Glaedr's heart of hearts.

'But I do not understand, I do not possess one of these, and I'm sure I would know if I did.' Temeraire said, never taking his eyes from the slowly revolving patterns of Glaedr's conscience.  
_It is something peculiar to us, a trait that is ours alone._ Glaedr replied.  
'So, this traitor-king of yours has been siphoning the power of dragons trapped within gems like this?' Laurence asked in astonishment.  
'It is a crime he will pay in blood for.' Arya assured Laurence coldly.

* * *

'Laurence, what is China like?' Temeraire asked idly, after they had settled down together, his wings sheltering them from the wintry air.  
'I have never been, my dear, only to India,' Laurence replied. 'But I hear it is very splendid; it is the oldest nation in the world you know; it even predates Rome. And certainly their dragons are the finest in the world.' He added with a smile, and saw Temeraire preen with satisfaction.  
'Well perhaps we may visit someday, I would very much like to meet another Celestial someday.' Temeraire, then brightened. 'Maybe we could accompany Eragon and Arya, they were discussing going to try and find that Rider mentioned in the legend of the Ethereal who drove back the Mongols.'  
'Don't be so sure my dear, we are needed here, but someday certainly, when duty permits.' Laurence replied.  
'But as for sending me to Napoleon, that is all great nonsense; I am never going to let anyone take you from me.'  
'Nor I my dear,' Laurence said, smiling, despite all the complications which he knew might arise if China did object.  
In his heart he shared the simplicity of Temeraire's view of the matter, and he fell asleep almost at once in the security of the slow, deep rushing of Temeraire's heartbeat, so very much like the sea.

And blissfully unaware of a certain lieutenant who came creeping back with a secret liasion with another captain…

* * *

''Night, Captain,' Gideon said, yawning as he pocketed his winnings and packed up the table.  
Eragon grunted a half-asleep reply, then all was quiet once again.

_What are we to do about Irnstad?_ Saphira asked as she lay coiled beside Eragon.  
_I suppose we'll just have to try and accompany whatever envoy they send regarding Temeraire back to China._ Eragon replied. _Nasuada would hardly object, and Islanzadí would approve the venture as well; our crew might take it hard, but after the battle, and how well they fought the ones that weren't likely to end up as Captains certainly haven't hurt their chances.  
__Mmm…_ _It has been an interesting few months, no?  
__Very interesting; the only things I would change would be Galbatorix, and the attitudes of these English towards dragons. And Rankin.  
__I think that's one thing we'd all agree on._ Saphira agreed. _Now sleep, it's back to business tomorrow.  
__Sleep well, Saphira. _Eragon replied.

**Well, there you have it.**

**If this chapter seemed a little rushed, then just be glad it wasn't a two-hundred-and-fifty page long monstrosity that another book could've been made out of, and that the ending, though maybe generic, isn't derivative.**

**That is the second major story I've ever completed, and certainly the longest.**

**I'd like to give a big thank you to everyone who's read, reviewed, favourited and subscribed, and I assure you that a sequel shouldn't be too long in coming.**

**Barring the vagaries of life and all that.**

**As for thanking my reviewers for last chapter:**

**I'd like to thank Hideout Writer, soldier of knowledge, Culebra del Sol and John Christopher L Ticyado.**

**For Story alerting, I'd like to acknowledge FuzzleMuffin.**

**And for the Favourite Story add, I'd like to thank FuzzleMuffin.**

**Well, I suppose I'm done for this story.**

**I guess I'll see you all in the sequel, and maybe a few new people and a couple who lost interest.**

**Until then, reviews are always appreciated whether the story is complete or not, and remember:**

**No One-liners!**


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